[ He laughs as they fall to the ground, careful that there isn't anything present that might cause injury, but bites back a low moan when Crowley's hips come up to meet his, suddenly feeling hot and that they are both wearing far too many clothes. Yet he raises an eyebrow at the posed question, because while it's true that he hasn't remained chaste and pure all these years, he has to wonder how many people Crowley might think would elicit this sort of response from him. The answer, of course, is just the one, the one underneath of him who would possibly make him reconsider his entire life, just take it all apart and restructure it, for Aziraphale is conservative: he doesn't like change, takes them little pieces at a time. He's a slow soul, prefers to pore over old texts and linger endlessly over thoughts of the author; Crowley has him feeling like he might enjoy a little adventure outside of his comforts. Homer, perhaps, or Wilde, might have had a chance if they'd only had six thousand years' of time to make an attempt. ]
Are you really asking after old paramours at a time like this?
[ His surprise is mocked, as he nips more kisses at Crowley's lips and moves to do so under the juncture of his neck to his jaw. Honestly, he thinks Crowley might be exaggerating a bit as Aziraphale has never noticed any untoward lust in his direction. There was, of course, interest, both real and feigned, as his standards had never allowed him to appear any less than a perfect gentleman, but nothing so openly desiring. Not at first, anyway. He does recall lovers looking to devour him, if only after an established connection was made. ]
If you must know, I have had several dalliances over the years, most of whom I loved.
None of them touch you. They don't even come close.
[ Certainly, there were none that Aziraphale still mourns, none that he'd visit now that they've passed, even if they were to happen to get to Heaven. And, of course, none of them had known he was an angel; they just thought him slightly ageless, that he'd gotten to this point and plateaued. Crowley is the only one who knows, the only one who looks at him as if he's the one thing they couldn't bear to be without, the only one who really ever mattered. ]
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Are you really asking after old paramours at a time like this?
[ His surprise is mocked, as he nips more kisses at Crowley's lips and moves to do so under the juncture of his neck to his jaw. Honestly, he thinks Crowley might be exaggerating a bit as Aziraphale has never noticed any untoward lust in his direction. There was, of course, interest, both real and feigned, as his standards had never allowed him to appear any less than a perfect gentleman, but nothing so openly desiring. Not at first, anyway. He does recall lovers looking to devour him, if only after an established connection was made. ]
If you must know, I have had several dalliances over the years, most of whom I loved.
None of them touch you. They don't even come close.
[ Certainly, there were none that Aziraphale still mourns, none that he'd visit now that they've passed, even if they were to happen to get to Heaven. And, of course, none of them had known he was an angel; they just thought him slightly ageless, that he'd gotten to this point and plateaued. Crowley is the only one who knows, the only one who looks at him as if he's the one thing they couldn't bear to be without, the only one who really ever mattered. ]