Aziraphale shudders when Crowley pulls his hand away, shifting and smoothly moving along with the demon, pulling his legs up against his sides.

His head is spinning, racing as it is, holding onto their shared thoughts, the emotions, a dance no one else can see. No one else gets to see. A little bit of selfishness they're more than deserving to hold onto, just between them.

Breathless, he still ducks his head to press his lips on the crook of Crowley's neck. Once, twice, brushing them against his skin. I love you, I've loved you, I trust you, I want you is as much as he can make clear, as much as he wants to let him know.