[Aziraphale obliges, his mouth back on Crowley's neck where he sucks another love bite to match the first.]

Both, then. All the better to pass the time.

[He squirms in Crowley's lap, already affected by that deft touch underneath his shirt. His intention was to pamper Crowley this evening, but if Crowley wants to reciprocate, he's not about to say no. There's the rest of the hair care regimen to look forward to, anyway. His hands wander over those bare, slender arms as he nuzzles against Crowley's neck.]

You know, if you're waiting at the barbershop, they only give you a magazine to read.