Crowley groaned slightly after Aziraphale left, then flopped over onto his back. As his hand drifted across his bare chest of its own accord, he thought that there must have been a better way to handle that, but couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. He tried to puzzle it out, but his thoughts kept turning to shining eyes and swollen lips and the metallic tang of blood.

After a while, feeling a little depraved and helpless, he gave in to his body's desires, pretending that the angel hadn't gone.