"Spike, you're the only vampire I know who purrs while being spanked. It's... well, it's perverted."
The insistent burr from deep in Spike's chest sputtered for a moment, to be replaced by a rumbly growl, and Xander readied his well-thought-out response to the expected question about why the whole deal with Spike tossed naked and ass-up over his lap wasn't perverted, just the purring -- but it wasn't necessary. Which was probably a good thing, since his rationale was about as thin as, for instance, a really old and well-used ping-pong paddle.
Instead Spike asked, "Which other vampires have you been spanking, then?" Xander's own personal creature of the night glared over his shoulder at his lover, who sat comfortably within a huge nest of pillows, against the headboard of the bed.
Stinging and somewhat worn-out palmflesh hit annoyingly un-pink assflesh with a very satisfying smack. It brought on a round of suspiciously comfy-looking squirms, and renewed that reverberating purr.
"It's a figure of speech," Xander told him. "If you're gonna be a pervert, you could at least not be a pedantic pervert."
"M'not a pervert; I'm just kinky. Perverted is when you use the whole chicken."
"Did *that* feel like a feather, pervo-boy?"