[ As his cheek is cupped, Crowley nuzzles into the palm of Aziraphale's hand. He's always loved the angel's hands. Truly, there isn't an inch of Aziraphale he doesn't adore, but his hands have always been so expressive. The softness of them, the lovely manicures, and the way he clasps them together as though to keep them from fluttering about the way they do when he doesn't feel such a need to keep up appearances...

Crowley presses a kiss to the palm and nods. ]

Would love to hear what he might consider saucy.

[ He relaxes again, his knuckles idly grazing up and down Aziraphale's side. ]

...And your love, it doesn't have to be showy or flashy now. Not if you don't want it to be. It's enough.