That makes two of them. Buffy probably wouldn't be a danger the way he would, but she'd be a lot more aggressive in general.

The fact that the noises are spurring him on are secondary; Buffy couldn't stifle those noises any more even if she wanted to. Her legs squeeze tighter around him and she bucks her hips against him in rhythm with his thrusts. The only time she can remember being like this is that night with Spike after she'd come back from Heaven when they'd knocked down the house. This isn't a part of herself that she usually feels the need to give into. There had been that night with Riley, but that had been magic, which might be a little more on the nose than the other incident.

As his movements become more erratic, Buffy braces herself against the wall, against his body, one hand tangled up in his hair, gripping a fistful of it hard as she finds that release and lets it wash over her, a wordless sort of gasp ripping from her. Her hand slips from his hair and winds around his neck as her body goes boneless against him for a moment. "Oh hell..." she gasps, trying to catch her breath.