"Suits," the angel moaned back. "I meant-" He could see Crowley's face from here, sticky black hair beginning to spike up a little in tousled streaks as they moved, and watched Crowley's serpentine mouth, so often caught in a smirk or grin and oh, so familiar; now swollen lips and all preoccupied, dark-lashed eyes focussed on him above his mouth. Their hands were curved around his cock, pulling in a maddening way that just made the angel want to wring something, whine for more, and- and-

And then-

Crowley moved harder, better, and Aziraphale arched, swearing loudly, forgetting where he was as it was just that spot that was brushed, and oh, fuck, he was coming, writhing and moaning, inarticulately, other hand gripping Crowley's beautiful skin convulsively.

"Crowley."