Captain Jack Harkness

To feel the touch of a hand against his skin was a shock to the senses. It was good, far too good, far too nice to just be touched again. He never was touched too often. He was distant and for good reason. But there were always those, the odd few that he held himself with. It had been longer than he knew.

For a moment, his breath caught and it might have quite easily registered in the kiss. He scolded himself inside; he should have been adept enough to stop that. But he wasn't as practised as he once might have been.

And for another moment, he was terrified. Just a brief rush of endorphins as he realised that he was opening. Opening himself to smile, to laugh, or just to feel, and he'd stopped himself from feeling for so long. It was frightening to think what he'd open him up to by allowing any of those things again.

His forehead touched against hers and he took a long breath, his eyes pushed tightly closed. He focused himself on the touch of her hand, just for a pause, just to allow himself to drink it in and burn it to memory.

"Time to go," he said, and there was uncertainty and struggle even in those three words. "Time I went."

His attempt to sound more forceful and solidify the sentiment... didn't really work.