Aziraphael raises his head slightly to accommodate, shifting his explorations to the incredibly soft skin of Crowley's hip. He already knows every inch of skin so well that it's all familiar territory, which might be why he so rarely takes his time lately. A shame, he thinks. The motion of his hand is still gentle, but steady.

The skin on Crowley's hip might be incredibly soft, but given what his other hand is up to, he has to be careful not to be jabbed in the face by a hipbone.