Beelzebub is happily engaged in thier closeness until the touch finds the place where wings and body meet. In a moment like this, wallowing in passion, the reaction is instantaneous. A shiver runs through his entire body and the feathers on his wings fluff at first contact to the down. As it continues though Beelzebub has to lean, nearly collapse onto Galahad. The single hand drifting through the feathers is near overwhelmingly arousing. In the wake of the caress all the angel can do is sigh with pleased contentment. It was one of those spots that got to the angel and sent waves of shivers and pleasure through him. He starts kissing wherever he's fallen against the knight, be it chest or neck, it'san irresistibleresponse, particularly when inebriated.

He needs to recover from that one touch, shaking out his wings and all the ruffled feathers before he can pull himself back up.

He listens and feels that there is truth to it. He was made to love, literally made of it in a very realistic way. How could he have been created wrong? Drunk though, he's more mischievous in his seriousness. "I'm divine, but if love is also divine..."

Beelzebub smirks in the pause. "... then you make me more divine."

He was going to say more divine than God but even in drunken haze he knows that might be a bad choice to say to someone with faith.