#thekaskproject

Rolling over, pulling the blankets down to reveal more of Crowley’s back, Aziraphale marvelled at the elaborate tattoo that curled its way sinuously across the pale and slightly freckled skin. It was a snake, black with a red belly, curving over one hip then up around his shoulder, looping across and down with the tail disappearing somewhere further down his body.  The head of the snake was on the middle of his back, its mouth wide open with fangs buried deep into a bright red apple and one golden eye split with a vertical pupil looking out with an interesting combination of wisdom and disdain.

It was spectacular, not only for the astonishing craftmanship, but for the sheer size of the piece.  It must have taken weeks or even months of work.  What had possessed Crowley to inflict so much pain on himself even as the art remained?  It obviously had vast significance for him to have chosen it, but Aziraphale was at a loss as to what it might be.

When a protesting “Mmmm ticklish, angel” emerged from the pillow, Aziraphale realised he had been stroking his fingers along Crowley’s back, following the lines of the snake, lifting sleeptangled hair out of the way.

“Oh sorry.”

Aziraphale snatched his hand back, but the shoulder in front of him shrugged, and the pillow said indistinctly, “S’alright, should be appreciated, just press a bit harder.”  The pillow paused. “Don’t get bloody ideas though.”

Up to that point, Aziraphale’s fascination with the art had stopped him from realising that Crowley was nearly naked in bed next to him, so he said a bit breathlessly, “Ideas?”