Aziraphale lets out a little hiss, as he's not very used to being touched so intimately by someone, and he has never had anything longer than a short fling (though short, in some cases to Aziraphale, might've been very long affairs to a human.) But certainly, he has never felt the kind of love he has for Crowley, for anyone in existence. The only one who might hold a candle to the sheer amount of love he has is God herself. And, certainly, God is not welcome in Aziraphale's bed, particularly not in this moment.

"I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. The imaginary relish is so sweet that it enchants my senses." And as Crowley's hips lift, he pulls the elastic down and over his thin hips, biting back a moan as he takes in the sight of him. "Oh," he says, eyes dark, finding he doesn't have a quote for that.