The shop "A. Z. FELL & Co" was closed, an uncommon sight for most passersby, but not for Crowley. As the most frequent of Aziraphale's regulars, he knew the angel’s habits better than anyone. Today, he found himself pressed against one of the bookshelves, arms wrapped around Aziraphale. The angel's hands framed his face, caging him in a tender embrace, palms flat against the shelves on either side of his head.

Crowley's mind was a haze of sensation, his only coherent thought being, "I'm in Heaven..." His lips moved against Aziraphale's in a series of fervent kisses, his fingers clutching desperately at the back of the angel’s clothes. Though one might expect Aziraphale to be the more flustered of the two, it was Crowley whose face flushed crimson, whose breaths came in short, ragged gasps, and whose fingers trembled from just a few kisses from his angel, each one sending a shiver down his spine, leaving him yearning for more of his angel's touch.