It had always been a dance. Sex and blood, a good fight and a good fuck would always land in the same category. It was the reason he'd fallen for Buffy. He knew that, always had. She'd punched him enough times, he couldn't stop thinking about her, dreaming about her. And the rest was history.

So, while he wasn't aching to get off, just then, he did feel a bit of that old tug, that desire for blood, for warmth and heat and life, that he knew quite well that Mike could provide.

But it was all bagged blood for Spike, these days. It was a sacrifice, a rather large one, he'd been prepared to take.

Instead, he fished out a cigarette as he pushed to his feet. "Don't get too excited, pet. Haven't known you all that long, in the scheme of things. I might lose interest, yet."