Lane reared back for a moment, looking into Spike's face and making a decision. With one hand, he pulled Spike's hand off his cock-even as nice as it felt-and slid his other hand up and into that shock of bleached blond hair. Tightening his grip, he pulled evenly and quickly on Spike's head, careful not to uproot any hair, but enough to make his intention clear. Moving his body, he shifted to a position that gave him easy access to whatever he wanted to do to Spike. "And you?" Lane asked, teeth teasing the delicate shell of Spike's ear. His voice took on a harder, sharper edge, low and grating. "Tell me to stop, and I'll stop. Last chance."