[Ah, EE Cummings. While Crowley always states he never reads, one of his loves has always been poetry. It's a passion, and one he's kept pretty quiet because, well, it's sort of lame, isn't it? Can't exactly saunter around with a poetry book in hand.

But a moment like this? He feels like he's very, very prepared. He murmurs against the angel's lips]

At the touch of you, as if you were an archer with your swift hand at the bow, the arrows of delight shot through my body.

[He kisses Aziraphale again.]