Feeling Lane drag back against his hands, Spike came to enough to withdraw, so that the last few spurts of his come landed on Lane's tongue rather than halfway down his throat. He forced his fingers to unclench from Lane's hair and let him go, staggering backwards a pace or two, breathing hard and grinning inanely.
"Bloody hell!" he got out, leaning up against a convenient wardrobe since his legs seemed to have turned to jelly. He gazed at the evidence of what he'd done to Lane, so pretty, so debauched, and grinned again, more slowly, more deliberately. "Wouldn't've wasted so much time down in the bar if I'd known you could suck like that."