He didn't know what he thought of wielding this much power over Anthony. Names, or so books would lead one to believe, were powerful in magic, and it stood to reason that a demon was like some eldritch Rumpelstiltskin who might be summoned or contained with the power of his name. If Anthony was turning into a demon, if it was changing him... someone did need to know how to stop him (or save him...).

But why him? He had once told Alec that being near Anthony swept him up in the moment, and though that had been in a different context at the time, could he do it...could he stop his demon if necessity demanded it?

Or was he entirely too tempted?

Aziraphale swallowed. Everything was warm and soft, intimate. Anthony's voice was silk against his skin.

"Crawley." The name was barely a breath from his lips, a secret between them. The basket of tarts slipped from his hand, wobbled, and managed to not spill as he was caught in Anthony's kiss.