Spike felt a small, electric shock as he snaked his tongue into the Buffybot's mouth. “Oh yeah, baby,” he said with a grin. “Make it hurt.”
Sliding a hand under her shirt, he pinched a nipple. “Oh, Spike,” the robot gasped.
“I'll make it so good for you,” he whispered. Closing his eyes, he leaned back as one hand circled lazy spirals around her breast and the other grabbed her ass.
“Warning. Warning. Imminent hardware failure,” she said as tiny sparks arced along her head, leaving rumpled hair in their wake.
Spike, who'd been thrown off by her scent, which wasn't Buffy's, and the how her skin didn't feel quite human to vampire senses, ignored the meaning of her words. “Yeah, talk dirty to me,” he said as he opened his eyes. Taking in her hair, his voice had a smirk when he said, “You're enjoying this.”
“Hardware,” she said.
“I am hard at that,” he whispered with a leer. He fumbled with his zipper in his impatience, and breathed out in a sigh of ecstasy as he entered her.
“Imminent hard–,” she said as sparks shot down her body.
“Ow. Shit, what the hell are you doing?” Spike shouted before he was thrown to the wall by the electric charge.
Rubbing his head as he stood, he said, “Luv, that was bloody– Buffy?” Smoke rose from her torso, and her skin was charred. He waved a hand before her face. She didn't move. “Bloody hell, I've got to get you fixed so we can try that again!”