[Whose going to walk in here at this hour anyway? And if they do, so what? He can't be bothered, not with as good as Spike's hands feel on his ass right now. He's busy being distracted by his skin, by all the muscles moving beneath his hands, by how good it feels to kiss his way up his jawline to nibble distracting at his earlobe, then run his tongue and mouth lower, down the side of his neck to where it meets his shoulder. Don't tell him it doesn't feel good when he does that, he knows it does.] Take it off me, then.