"Of course you don't. You want something a," He ran a hand through his hair, "tad bit lighter," then the hand moved over the arm that held his cross tattoo, "not so perfect," Then both hands moved down his sides and hips, every inch the headlining dancer he was, "and who knows how to use his body to it's every advantage." Coming up closer and personal, he wrapped an arm around Spike's neck, bringing them as close as possible. "What's stopping you Spike?" He asked, almost lip to lip.