Oh yes, he knew what that sort of talk did to Cal, as seemingly tame as it was in comparison to the sorts of more obvious filthy things that were liable to come out of his boyfriend's mouth at any given moment and make Oliver turn three shades of crimson. It gave the angel no small degree of satisfaction whenever he succeeded in temporarily short circuiting the deviously clever wheels always turning in Cal's head, that pause when there was only silence and Oliver's eyes on the increasingly tempting curve of Cal's lips to fill it making the wait even more unbearable.
That was nothing, of course, compared to what it did to Oliver when Cal responded in kind. Oliver had a weakness for filthy talk. He couldn't bring himself to utter words like 'cock' without blushing, it's why he dressed it up with things like 'sacred heavenly vessels', provocative without being blunt and upsetting the poor angel's delicacies to utter it. But when they were coming out of Cal's delightfully sinful mouth? Something like the word 'defile' brought out all sorts of feelings in Oliver that were entirely unbecoming of an angel. A blasphemous thought, but to him, to be defiled by Cal was practically Heaven itself.
His breath caught in his throat once, and then twice. The first time as Cal's hand once again found his, the familiarity of Cal's touch no less exciting than the first time they ever found themselves together like this. Oliver couldn't imagine a time where the trill of it would ever disappear or lessen, even after six thousand years. Forever was a long time, but with Cal, forever didn't seem nearly long enough.
Being desired the way Cal desired him felt dangerous, like a drug, or at least it would if Oliver participated in that sort of thing. He'd never taken a drug in his life, but he was certain that Cal was unlike any other drug in the world. The tips of his ears burned with the knowledge that Cal couldn't bear to not be touching him anymore than Oliver could stand being away from him. Having a demon's undivided attention might unnerve most, but Cal's was nothing short of intoxicating.
It usually went something like this. Cal tempted, Oliver held out for as long as he could. Not because he needed to, but for Cal's benefit. He knew how much the other man enjoyed seeing how far the tempting could go before Oliver inevitably gave in and pounced. Even if Oliver didn't enjoy it himself (which he did, because as previously stated, he was a very bad angel), what Cal got out of it would be more than enough to sustain him.
As it was, everything about Cal and their relationship was entirely enough to sustain him. Oliver couldn't remember a time before Aziraphale and meeting Cal when he'd felt this happy. The idea of falling in love with anyone used to terrify him, but with Cal, it turns out that falling in love had been the easiest thing in the world. Aziraphale and Crowley, Oliver and Cal. With them, the end result was always inevitable.
Ineffable, even.
Oliver's breath hitched a second time at that achingly soft brush of Cal's lips against his neck, unable to hold back the shiver or the delicate noise that came as he unconsciously leaned into it. How was he expected to be good at all when these were the sorts of temptations he was faced with on a daily basis? He was just one angel.
"Oh, to Hell with it."
Winding his head around, he closed the remaining distance between them to cover Cal's mouth with his so eagerly it would have given him away completely if Oliver wasn't already the easiest book in the world to read. Dragging his hand under Cal's along his chest, his fingers also managed to slip their way between buttons and touch skin as he leaned forward into the kiss so urgently that even with the back of the sofa between them, anymore force and he might have been in danger of toppling over.