Spike had to work harder not to struggle this time. It was an instinctive response, even more so in a demon than a human, and Spike wasn't the best at controlling himself. And a hand pushing down on his neck like that, not to mention being forced down on his back, open and vulnerable - oh yeah, he wanted to fight that. But he really didn't want the proceedings interrupted by a fucking migraine, so he fought his instincts, made himself lie still and, well, not exactly limp but at least not resisting.
Lane's question made him swallow hard. "No," he got out, hoarse and wary.