There is a very real risk to Crowley's person, to this now oh so feeble vessel, but that doesn't seem to be enough to give Crowley any pause. That doesn't seem to be enough to change the way he is looking at him, soft and affectionate, or prevent him from wiggling his way ever closer as if there were truly no other place he would rather be.

Yeah, he says if it were never any problem at all.

He possibly has a permanent scar in the shape of Aziraphale's bite, might possibly earn himself yet another, and—!

Immediately, Aziraphale loses his train of thought as Crowley closes the distance between them to press their lips together. Whatever he was thinking about hardly feels as important as kissing Crowley. The only thing that matters to him now is wrapping his arms around the demon's waist, carefully trying to pull him closer.

A low rumble begins in his throat, a soft purr that betrays how delighted he is in this moment.