Kev figured Archer was getting hung up on the fact that several demons were in the process of f*****g the statuary. He didn’t blame Archer—or the demons, really. The sculptures, carved from obsidian, portrayed angels in various poses, some with mouths open or legs spread, others with bulging, erect c***s. The angels were meant to be irreverent, arousing, and they certainly were to Kev.
They were to Archer, too, if his expression was anything to go by. Kev nudged him with a shoulder.
“Drink?” he asked.
Archer drank. After a moment he seemed to notice Kev, and had another drink before leaning in. Kev accepted the kiss, the pre-warmed alcohol mixed with spit. He liked Archer’s lips, wanted as much of them as he could get. He opened up wide for the alcohol, felt Archer’s tongue over his own
