Crowley hadn't really been expecting the powerful convulsions tightening around his length and he groaned, watching Aziraphale lose himself in pleasure, his head thrown back and spine arching. The word beautiful didn't often come to mind when one thought of the angel - despite his current body, Crowley still saw the old one whenever he looked at him - but he was beautiful now in the throws of this deeply human act, sweat and mussed hair and all the other imperfections making it all the more perfect. His skin was flushed and glowing, silvery grey in the moonlight, but there was no sign of a halo. At times like this, Crowley could almost forget.

What he couldn't forget was his own need. Aziraphale's thrashing, moaning, tensing, and name-calling had gotten him quite close, but it took another minute or so of love making under the stars for Crowley to reach his own climax, encouraged by clever hands and a breathless mouth, after which all he could do was collapse bonelessly atop his partner, mouthing endearments and affections that he couldn't yet say. The whole experience had been so fleeting yet so eternal, that before he could even catch his breath, he caught Aziraphale's lips for another tender kiss before wrapping his arms around him and holding him close.