"Don't move."
"I'm not moving!"
It was true, and Jack thought it should have gone without saying. The Doctor had brought him here - pretty place, great view - and kissed him. Kissed him, took hold of his wrists and backed him up until he was right where the Doctor wanted him: His heels hanging out over open space and Jack grasping onto the Doctor's wrists harder than the Doctor was holding onto his.
"Good!" The Doctor grinned but it didn't make it to his eyes. His eyes stayed serious, something demanding and a little dark lurking in them. Jack couldn't look away. "Let go."
"You're joking." The Doctor's expression didn't change. The manic grin and dark demand didn't so much as flicker. Jack had never seen anyone look less like they were joking, and that was saying something. "You're not joking."
"Come on, Jack. Live a little."
He didn't let go. He locked his knees and held on tighter, fingers clamping down on the Doctor's wrists until Jack felt the bones grind together and his nails bite into the skin.
"What are you doing?" His voice, when he asked, was stronger than he felt. It held a hint of a growl and the suggestion of his own demand for an explanation.
The Doctor flexed his arms from the shoulder, eyes still on Jack's. It was just enough motion to throw Jack off his precarious balance and suddenly the brink wasn't just literal and the drop threatened to break more than his neck.
Jack's heart pounded against his chest. He could feel the rasp and burn of air in his lungs and he'd never felt more terrified ñ or alive. He wasn't aroused, he was scared. If his grip on the Doctor hadn't already been white knuckled it would have been then.
The Doctor's grin faded to a strange half smile that Jack didn't understand. He loosened his hands until they were still around Jack's wrists but hardly holding on.
"Let go, captain." His voice reflected everything that was in his eyes - commanding, calming, steadier than anything Jack had ever imagined.
"Live a little," Jack murmured. He wasn't talking to the Doctor. He was talking to himself.
Letting go wasn't easy. He closed his eyes and forced his fingers to unclench. It wasn't at all easy, but he did it. Then his hands were resting loose on the Doctor's, fingertips just brushing the leather of the other man's coat. He opened his eyes and looked at the Doctor. His eyes were still dark, still demanding, but now they were warm with something that might have been pride and definitely was encouragement.
The Doctor nodded almost imperceptibly. "Go on."
Another deep, unsteady breath and Jack turned his wrists so the Doctor's hold on them was from below.
He took a half step forward, fitting one jean-clad thigh neatly between Jack's. There was a warm brush of breath against Jack's face, an even softer brush of lips. It was more suggestion than kiss, more benediction than suggestion, and Jack didnít understand it.
The compact power of the Doctor's muscular body suddenly pressed into him, pushing, undeniable, and Jack was falling backwards into empty space.
In the split seconds and frantic heartbeats before strong hands gripped his wrists, Jack thought he understood, at least a little.
The line between pain and pleasure was one Jack knew. Knew, understood, and had lived with for so long that he didn't remember ever not knowing.
But the line between fear and faith, that was a line he'd needed to be shown, the lesson he'd needed to be taught.
It was a truth he hoped he'd never forget.