Crowley lifts his hips a little, making it easier to lower the trousers down. He would, given the chance, just miracle them off, banishing them to the far side of the planet for all he cared. But they're taking this at Aziraphale's pace, and there' a level of patience that must be had for this. And with Aziraphale's hand on his skin, touching him under the fabric of his trousers, he can certain take the anticipation.

Crowley has never considered himself a gentle person. A sweet person. Those are words that aren't associated with demons, or the sort of person that Crowley has always affected himself to be. But he would be that sort of person for Aziraphale. He would touch him as sweetly or as gently as the angel would want. He lets his hand run gently down the angel's back, between his shoulderblades where his wings would be.

He kisses Aziraphale again, and this time gently nibbles against the angel's lower lip. A gentle bite, a soft bite. Something to offer a little teasing.