Spike had always been ready pretty quickly. The thrill of a fight, drinking a victim's blood, had always been enough to make him hard and hungry. With Dru, foreplay would involve carnage or inflicting pain on each other - or both. With Buffy, he didn't even need her hands on him. All it took was her fist connecting with his face. Her throwing him against a wall - he couldn't resist that if he tried. And he didn't. Instead he cheered her on, provoked her, made her as angry as possible. The harder she hit him the better.
