There would have been an inward thread of amusement glimmering through Aziraphale at the sheer speed of which Crowley could move if there was the possibility of sex in the air. Would have been, because as it happened Aziraphale wanted this just as badly and could care less about speed limits (although he kept his eyes open in case, miracles at the ready).

The angel looked down at the box in his hands, feeling the tips of his ears glow red. Not only sex, at that.

And then- and then the Bentley stopped, and Crowley was grinning at him, and Aziraphale realized that they were, possibly, in the most uninhabited place in England, and nowhere near the Manor or civilization, and- and stopped.

"...What?"

Shock. "You want- here?" Aziraphale asked, flabbergasted. He glanced around. "Well, I suppose..."

In the Bentley itself? Not that Aziraphale was complaining, not in the least! but the chocolate syrup, on the seats, and...