Summary: Jack shows Ianto what is possible when you practice.
Disclaimer: Jack and Ianto don't belong to me, unfortunately. They belong to all the people who had a hand bringing them to life, including but not limited to Russell T Davies, the BBC, John Barrowman and Gareth David-Lloyd. I make no money from this. Please don't sue me.
Author's Note: I work with a guy who can actually do this. I don't get tired of seeing it either. Is he a man or a God? Dan, if you're reading, then this is for you.
How Do you...?
"Ready?" Jack asked, smiling, and Ianto tried to swallow down the remnants of the last one. He just wasn't sure about this. It could be done. He'd seen it done several times now; several times in a row, in fact. Ianto tried not to think about that.
"I feel a bit sick," he confessed, and Jack laughed a little. Ianto shifted uncomfortably as he hesitated. Bits of thin gaudily coloured foil crinkled around him on the chair, sticking to his suit trousers. How many had they done so far? Ianto put it out of his mind. Jack's office really wasn't the place for this – if there was a place.
"Just watch," Jack said in the manner of a teacher, and Ianto couldn't do anything else but stare. However many times he saw it, the novelty just didn't wear off. Jack had already bitten the top away in readiness, and showed off what was inside. Now Jack glanced at him to make sure he was paying attention, and then raised the crème egg to his lips for a short moment. His cheeks hollowed out, and Ianto knew his mouth was hanging open again as Jack pulled the chocolate away from his mouth with a satisfied smirk. How he could smirk with his mouth full was another mystery. He showed the inside of the egg to Ianto. It was empty. He'd sucked out the entire inside of a crème egg.
"You didn't have time to get your tongue in there," Ianto said faintly, hopefully, and Jack shook his head. Jack swallowed rather obviously. Ianto tried not to think about it... too much. Sucking, and swallowing.
"Now, you," Jack said, waving a hand at him. Ianto looked down at the egg in his hand. The chocolate was already melting around his fingers. Not again. By the time he had failed to copy Jack, Ianto was certain he must be turning green. Was it six or seven?
Eventually, later that day, after a longish trip to the gents and a shower to get rid of the sticky feeling of fondant and chocolate, Ianto wrote in his diary...
Note to self: However tempting it may be, it is never a good idea to say "How do you eat yours?" to Jack.
~ finis ~