The demon was himself a talker during intimate moments, so John's commentary was only part of the background tapestry of passion, as much as the man's roving hands or Kit's admirable mouth. John was right, though. Her evident enjoyment only served to increase his own until he was writhing in John's arms and trying not to speak for fear of saying something revealing. Crowley tended to forget what language he was speaking when he was aroused. It hadn't been a problem with Aziraphale as a partner. Nor had the involuntary hissing or the inadvertent wing deploying, which in this case would very badly bruise John if it didn't actually break his ribs. Trying to keep all this control wasn't helpful for letting go and relaxing, but as Kit's tongue worked its magic along his cock, the familiar feeling began to build.