That does it, the permission, the invitation, and Crowley groans outright with the relief of it when his hemipenes slide out from a cloaca that wasn't there a moment before, a pocket of flesh higher up than it'd normally be, for convenience's sake. Where his snakeskin is green and bronze, his hemipenes are quite pink, each looking like something of a cross between a human penis and an anemone. Almost immediately he relaxes, slumping back further against the stern; the effort spent, well, not to make the Effort had apparently been more than he'd realised.

Crowley's grin hits somewhere between smug and self-conscious, and sits firmly in one corner of his mouth, as his grip around Aziraphale's cock firms up again, and he gives a little stroke. 'Full of sssurprises, Aziraphale,' he says through his grin, dipping up for a quick, wet kiss. 'This isn't too close to lying with the beasts of the field for an angel?'