Work Text:
He's tracing her tattoos with his fingertips when she hears the sound of a cap being removed.
"What are you doing?" She asks, running a finger down his leg.
"Coloring this in."
"What?" At this Belial sits up, or tries to - there is a firm hand pinning her to the bed, and when she looks she can see blue and green and purple decorating the wings of her butterfly.
He's changing markers again and now there's yellow, and Belial watches as he finishes, capping the magic marker and tossing it away.
"Gabriel," she says.
"It's washable," Gabriel says.
Belial can only sigh and pull him in for a kiss.