I'm fond of dancing, so I might struggle with sitting around to merely watch. I'm more of a do-er than a watcher.

[A shiver runs up his spine and he makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat. Cain was all pale skin and freckles and his shirt forgotten on the ground with his other garments. His fingers start trailing over and exploring over Dorian's exposed skin; appreciating the feeling of skin under his fingertips.] Dancing can be quite intimate, after all. [Dorian can wonder what kind of dancing he could be talking about.]