Jack pulled his head back while the Doctor tugged the shirt up and away, and then as soon as it had gone he returned to kissing him. His skin still felt slightly dampened from the wet clothes against him, and it seemed to heighten the coolness of the Doctor's skin against his own. It electrified him. It was something so distinctly Doctor.

And here they were, in Jack's home, a place where if he were honest with himself he'd admit that he had wanted to return for over a hundred years. But he didn't care about it. He didn't care about anything than the man next to him and the air around them.

He needed no more than a light touch to usher him towards the bed, a small press that he understood, and so he stepped, keeping the same hold on the Doctor as he did, back and back until the back's of his calves touched the edge of the bed, he very nearly tripped and he let out a small laugh against the Doctor's lips.

"Less suave of me there," he said between kisses, "if you tell stories about me, leave that bit out."