almaasi:

“What’s thisss?” he asked, appreciatively.

Aziraphale shrugged bashfully. “Just something pretty for the occasion.”

Crowley smiled. “It’s lingerie.”

“If you say so.”

“It is.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

Ugh, Crowley thought, affectionately. Aziraphale knew full-well what he was wearing. He’d probably had it tailor-made, because he did that with clothes. That innocent yet sly look in the angel’s eyes was even more exciting than the lingerie itself. And, frankly, he probably knew that, too. Crowley loved him so much it made him dizzy.

Tryst at the Ritz

(An explicit yet classy 11.7k fic in which Crowley and Aziraphale get a wiggle on, in the Biblical sense.)