"Okay, here's the plan," announces Ziggy after they manage to escape the claws of several freakishly horny civilians. "We go the long way, avoid populated areas, bust out the team, and take these motherfucking attack-bots down!"
Dillon considers it. "That's a good plan," he says and Ziggy grins.
"Most importantly, though," Ziggy adds, getting serious, "is to notget hit by the 'sex ray' thingamajig. Agreed?"
Dillon nods. They start running.
Dillon gets hit by the sex ray thingamajig.
"Dillon!" Ziggy rushes to his side. "Dillon, are you okay?"
Dillon doesn't feel injured. A different sensation entirely is flowing through his veins, shutting down his brain. Ziggy is leaning over him, worried, and suddenly Dillon wants him so bad it hurts.
"Shit, shit, I got hit by the spell."
"You what?" Ziggy exclaims.
Ziggy has this incredulous, unimpressed look on his face and Dillon has the undeniable urge to kiss it off him. "This is bad," he groans, even as he's rising up, sliding his hands along Ziggy's thighs.
"Whoa! Hand check alert," yelps Ziggy, smartly moving out of range. "Are you telling me that not five minutes after we made the plan, you got yourself hit by that lust thing?"
Head fuzzy and filled with images of the two of them naked and fucked out, Dillon barely hears him. He's murmuring, "It'd be good, we'd be so good together" and moving towards Ziggy drunkenly.
Scrambling back a bit further, Ziggy says, "Dillon, you don't know what you're doing," all high-pitched and wary. In his frantic movements, Ziggy's shirt has ridden up to reveal a slip of skin; Dillon is entranced. He says, "No I don't," and crawls into the boy's space regardless, barely aware of anything but his desire to get his hands and tongue on every inch of available skin. "Please, Zig, I want you so bad."
Ziggy makes a suspicious sound at that and says, "Oh my god, you so owe me for this." Then he shoves Dillon onto his back, fumbles open his jeans, and slides his mouth smoothly over Dillon's dick.
It's fantastic.
Ziggy is going to town, working up and down like a pro and it occurs to Dillon, through his lust-filled haze, that there is no way this is Ziggy's first blow job.
"You've done this before," breathes Dillon, unable to help himself. Ziggy glares up at him through dark lashes, mouth still full of Dillon's dick, and fuck if that isn't one the hottest things the Black Ranger has ever seen.
"Okay, talk later, good plan," Dillon pants, throwing his head back in an attempt to hold off from coming quite so soon. He lasts a few minutes longer, but then Ziggy pops off, takes Dillon's dick in hand and whispers, "We haven't got all day, Dil," while biting lightly at his stomach and Dillon loses it.
He comes to after a moment and gapes at Ziggy, stunned.
"You were under the sex spell," Ziggy declares immediately and with much flailing of his arms. "What was I supposed to do?" Dillon opens and closes his mouth uselessly, so Ziggy continues. "We're meant to be finding the other rangers and I couldn't do it with you all nutty on pheromones, so I bit the bullet. No big deal."
Dillon is still staring in vague horror at his treacherous dick currently flopping out of his open jeans so Ziggy claps his hands together decisively. "Moving on! Next order of business: rescue."
It would happen that the next time they run into one of the bots (which, what the hell, are these things everywhere?), Dillon gets stunned again. He just knows Ziggy is going to find some way to accuse him of doing it on purpose, which he's not. Ziggy gives world-class blow jobs, so what? Dillon digs girls. Blond ones. With breasts and such.
Right.
All of that stuff aside, Dillon gets hit by another pheromone spell and once again the only person around to direct his desire at is Ziggy. Ziggy rolls his eyes dramatically when Dillon looks at him darkly and says, "I want to fuck you into the wall."
"All right hot-shot. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm pretty sure you'll be regretting that statement in a little while."
Dillon leans into his space, trying for kiss, but Ziggy ducks down, dodging his lips. "I'm starting a tab," he mutters as he opens Dillon's pants.
The second blow job is no less amazing than the first.
His guilt and embarrassment after is also just as potent.
"Ziggy, I'm-"
"Yeah, the talking about this? How about we don't do that," says Ziggy, getting up and brushing off his knees. Dillon is definitelynot feeling hurt by the fact that Ziggy seems capable of acting like nothing weird is going on when Dillon can't stop picturing how the Green Ranger looked with his lips wrapped around Dillon's dick.
This is going nowhere good.
The third time it happens, about half-way to their destination, Ziggy does accuse Dillon of doing it on purpose.
"Seriously, Dillon? Next time you want a blow job, just ask. No need to get kicked around by a robot first."
There are so many things about that statement that need careful consideration, but Dillon isn't currently in any fit state to do so. He mostly just wants to get a glimpse at the skin Ziggy's hiding under his green tee.
"I'm aware that this looks bad," Dillon bites out through clenched teeth. "But I can't think of anything but getting you naked right now."
"Listen, buddy, my jaw's starting to ache a bit-"
"Then let me touch you," cajoles Dillon recklessly, loving the idea of getting his hands onto warm skin. When Ziggy doesn't instantly object, Dillon grabs his waist and works a hand under Ziggy's shirt. He leans forward to nibble on the boy's ear, whispering, "You don't have to do all the work."
"Dil-lon," gasps Ziggy, and then shakes himself angrily. "You're killing me here."
"Zig, I can't help it." He can't; he can't control himself. "Lift up." Obediently raising his arms, Ziggy allows Dillon to strip him of his tee and latch his mouth onto Ziggy's bare shoulder.
Gooseflesh follows Dillon's fingers as he runs them up Ziggy's sides and Ziggy sighs almost sweetly. "You know," he says while Dillon is mouthing over his collarbone, "We really don't have time for this. We're on a mission, remember?"
And Dillon does remember. He's aware of the fact that the rest of the team is waiting for them, that he and Ziggy should keep moving, but it just doesn't seem quite as urgent as his need to put his mouth on every last inch of Ziggy's body, to have Ziggy touching him again.
"They can wait a few more minutes, right?" he says, trying not to whine. "C'mon, don't you want to Zig? I can hardly stand it."
"What I want really has no bearing right now," Ziggy says, tightly.
"Well I want to get naked and fuck. I want you to want me."
"Good god, stop talking." The Green Ranger raises a hand when Dillon opens his mouth again. "No, seriously, less is more I think. Just take off your pants and keep your mouth shut until this is over, okay?"
Yeah, Dillon's not in control of his own body right now, much less his vocal chords, but he does approve of part of that plan.
Ziggy said pants, but Dillon figures his shirt can go to. It takes too long to strip; Dillon is gagging for release by the time he finishes and he shoves Ziggy into a nearby wall, licking at his neck.
Ziggy makes a squeaking noise when Dillon sticks a hand down his jeans and says, "Oh god, this isn't going to turn out well, I can tell." He's trying to slither a hand between them to grab Dillon's dick, but Dillon is pressed close enough to make it troublesome. "Come on, Dillon. Help me out here; I'm trying to get you off!"
"And I'm trying to get you naked."
"There could be more grinders here any minute!"
"Then maybe you should assist me."
Ziggy glares at him, but there's an edge to it, a craving. A moment passes between them, Dillon desperate with want and Ziggy studying him, internal struggle clear on his face, until the Green Ranger seems to snap and starts mumbling while he shimmies out of his pants. "Wasn't going to do this, told myself not to let it come to this, you're going to be weird about this later, you are, you are…"
Then he turns around, slim hands on the wall, and says clearly, "Fuck me."
Dillon almost blows his load right there, beside himself with lust at hearing those two simple words. He's on Ziggy in an instant mapping out his pale back and groaning. "So unbelievably hot, Zig, how did I ev—I want you so bad."
"Well, you've got me," Ziggy pants, face shoved into an arm. "And what did I say about talking?"
Dillon ignores him, gripping his ass. "Christ, you're so…" he falters, gets his dick wedged between Ziggy's thighs. "Fuck."
Ziggy echoes him faintly and bangs his head forward when Dillon gives him a reach around. "Jesus, Dillon, will you fuck me already? I'm begging you."
And Dillon wants to, he really, really does, but he's already hard as a rock and hearing Ziggy say that sets him over the edge.
Dazed, he blinks out of the spell in time to hear Ziggy spit, "I'm going to murder you, Dillon," all strained and needy.
"I'm sorry!" Dillon croaks, awkward and fidgeting. "I don't exactly have control over…" but Ziggy just shakes him off, moving hastily around a corner and out of sight. Dillon pretends not to know what he's doing.
"How come you don't ever get hit by that spell," asks Dillon afterwards, while trying to put himself back together. His voice comes out loud and slightly forced, in an attempt to drive away the memory of Ziggy saying 'fuck me' and offering himself up like a goddamned martyr.
An insanely tempting martyr.
Ziggy shoots him a slightly amused glance. "Because someonenever lets me fight the big ones when he's around."
Dillon thinks about it and, yeah, maybe he is a hog when it comes to the attack-bots. It's just that Ziggy is so uncoordinated and wild in his fighting; he has a much better chance of beating up the countless grinders than he does of hitting a single target. It has absolutely nothing to do with Dillon's protective complex when it comes to the Green Ranger. "Well maybe I'll just leave it to you next time."
"Maybe you should."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Dillon still gets hit by the damn spell. It's Ziggy's fault really. He isn't protecting his left side, leaving it wide open to attack, so Dillon has to step in and back him up.
Ziggy throws his hands up, exasperated. "I give up. You're hopeless."
"Just having an off day," he replies, shucking off his shirt. His skin is tingling in anticipation and he feels frantic with the need to have sex right. Now.
Ziggy's still complaining; something about "and they say I'm the poor fighter", but he has also started undoing Dillon's jeans, so the Black Ranger isn't really pay attention. Dillon's mouth moves of its own accord.
"Please let me fuck you." The thought keeps circling in Dillon's mind; how hot, how mind-bendingly awesome it would be. It's worse now that they've come so close to doing just that, he thinks. He burns with it.
Dillon's expecting a rebuke after what happened earlier, maybe a blow job instead, but Ziggy surprises him by saying, "Yeah, yeah, working on that."
The Black Ranger tries to push through the overwhelming fog of desire to judge if maybe Ziggy's been affected by the spell too, but the ranger seems well enough. At least, he's not scrabbling at Dillon's clothes like a wild person, which is exactly what Dillon himself is currently doing to Ziggy.
They're naked in no time, Dillon bearing Ziggy onto the ground and sinking into the warm skin of the other man.
"Fuck, Ziggy, Jesus you're tight."
"Not exactly getting a lot of play around the garage," pants Ziggy, strained.
Dillon is sliding in as slow as possible, almost bottoming out. "Can I move?" he whines, beside himself. "I've got to move."
"Yes, god, move," Ziggy tells him and holy shit is that good. The friction is driving Dillon wild and he leans down, presses his lips against Ziggy's spine. Ziggy makes these quiet, punched out noises as Dillon pumps and Dillon cannot breathe for want.
"Can you please pick it up? We're kind of on a schedu—oh," Ziggy falters, ducking his head and moaning. "Oh my god, do that again."
Dillon does and Ziggy spreads his legs out, pulls him in further. "Ziggy, Ziggy…," he sighs, "You're so fucking sweet."
"Shut up," Ziggy pants unevenly. "And go faster, dammit."
"Yeah, yeah," mutters Dillon, picking up the pace. "Geez, bossy."
Ziggy just lays there for a while when they finish. He looks exactly like Dillon had imagined when he was all horny and pheromone induced, only now he isn't horny and pheromone induced and Ziggy is still entirely too enticing.
Dick twitching, Dillon says abruptly, "You think those bots are going to leave any… lasting impact on people and their libidos?"
"Um, I hope not?" Ziggy gets up, dragging his clothes back on and prompting Dillon to do the same. When they're finally presentable, Ziggy eyes him suspiciously. "Why did you ask that?"
Turning around hastily, Dillon pretends to be consulting the tracking device. "We're almost to the base. Let's get going."
They hit one last sex-bot before reaching the coordinates K gave them. They manage to get into the highly guarded base set up in an office building and are only one level below where the other rangers are being kept when Ziggy goes down with shout.
"Ziggy!" Grinders overwhelm Dillon for a few minutes as the attack-bot goes running off in a different direction and Dillon fights them back furiously, trying to see where Ziggy landed. Finally he succeeds in crushing the hardwiring of the last grinder. Turning to locate the Green Ranger, Dillon has about a second to absorb that Ziggy is whole and standing, barely scratched, before the boy rushes at him, eyes flashing, and kisses Dillon feverishly.
It's mostly a shock, but also kind of amazing and Dillon realizes that they might have already had sex about four times today but this is the first time they've kissed.
It's possible that he gets a bit into it because he loses some time between Ziggy kissing him in the middle of the room and the two of them ending up pressed against a desk. Ziggy slows down the kiss, drags Dillon's bottom lip out with his teeth, and Dillon bites back a whine.
"Sh- shit," he exhales, attempting to replay the most recent battle in his mind. He didn't get hit by that sex ray while he was kicking grinder ass, did he? There must be a good excuse for why making out with Ziggy was turning him on so damn much. But he knows the attack-bot took off immediately after stunning Ziggy and Dillon hadn't been near enough to be affected.
Figures. The one time he manages not to get hit and he can't even gloat because Ziggy is currently too busy grappling at Dillon's jacket, yanking it off and shoving greedy fingers along his stomach, to pay any attention. "Want to do me again?" Ziggy asks, voice hot and full of promises.
The answer is clearly a resounding yes as far as his libido is concerned and Dillon swallows, throat dry. He tries a smirk. "Simmer down, Zigs."
"No, no, no, you bastard," Ziggy argues, hoisting himself onto the desk and hooking his legs around the backs of Dillon's thighs to pull him in. "I need you."
Jesus. "Okay, c'mon. It'll be fine." He hesitates one more second, but there's no way he's chickening out on Ziggy after how many times Ziggy had to rescue him today, so he steels himself and palms Ziggy firmly through his stupidly tight jeans.
"Ah, fuck Dillon." Hair tickles Dillon's neck as Ziggy presses in, followed by the bite of teeth. Dillon sucks in a breath, unexpectedly aroused by the sting and trying not to be.
"Want to touch you so much, fuck, all the time. Want to get naked and- and taste you," says Ziggy wildly, desperately.
Oh boy, this is getting out of hand. Dillon didn't get hit by the pheromones, he checked already, he knows he didn't, so getting blinded by want really shouldn't be such a problem. The button on Ziggy's pants stubbornly refuses to come undone, which has nothing to do with the distraction of Ziggy's tongue on his neck.
He growls, frustrated. "Will you get these damn things open? We're on a mission, remember?"
Making a noise that could be understanding, but is more likely approval of the 'open pants' demand, Ziggy quickly fumbles open his skinnies and bucks into Dillon's waiting fist.
"I give you two blow jobs and all I get is a lousy hand job?" complains Ziggy when his head clears up. "You still owe me big time, buddy."
Dillon has no idea if Ziggy is talking just a general obligation to repay him for the trouble sometime in the future, or if he means specifically sexual favors (which would be pretty ballsy), but he doesn't dwell. He'll figure it out later.
Summer looks beside herself with relief when they finally find her caged up in a supply closet and she helps them locate Gem tied up behind a copy machine and Gemma roped to a chair in the small break room. That leaves Flynn and Scott, both of whom were whisked away for 'questioning' Summer informs them. They have to fight through some more grinders, but eventually they see Killabot waltzing out of a meeting room, acting smug. Dillon wipes the expression (robots with expressions, what the hell) right off his face with a well-timed roundhouse.
The fight is obviously uneven, despite the many grinders milling around, so Killabot makes a hasty escape like the coward he is, and the rangers open up the room to find Scott and Flynn looking suspiciously ruffled.
A knowing grin is creeping its way up Ziggy's face and he says, "And what were you two getting up to in—" but Scott cuts him off with a glare vicious enough to warn off even Ziggy and says, "What happens in the interrogation room, stays in the interrogation room," before stalking off to separate some grinder heads from their bodies.
"Ooh, touchy," Ziggy says, eyebrows raised.
Flynn gives him and Dillon a pointed look. "And I'm suppose' ta believe tha' you two didn't run into any sex-bots on the way here?"
"Touché," replies Ziggy, sounding shockingly blasé about the implications. Dillon kind of wants to boggle at him, but Dillon isn't a boggling sort of person so he brushes it off and joins the team in laying waste to the entire base.
"I can't believe it," Ziggy grumbles once they've destroyed all of Venjex's machines in the city. "An entire city full of hot, willing chicks and I spend the whole day saddled with you."
"Chicks, huh."
"Yeah; girls, broads, ladies…. You know, those people who look like us only bigger in this area." He hovers his hands in front of his chest to indicate breasts.
"Right," Dillon says, amused. "And lacking a certain something down here." He grabs at his crotch, mimicking Ziggy's vulgarity, and gets a thrill at seeing Ziggy's eyes focus in, throat clicking faintly.
"Yes, I'm fairly certain you're right about that."
"Huh. And here I was getting the impression that you, I don't know," Dillon pretends to search for a suitable word, "liked this particular piece of anatomy."
Ziggy continues to watch Dillon's hands, which are now stripping off his black t-shirt and preparing for a shower. "And what gave you that idea," he says faintly.
Wondering if Ziggy's going to try and deflect the conversation again, Dillon says, "There's no way that was the first time you ever went down on a dude."
"It could have b—"
"Ziggy."
"Oh, alright. You got me. I've sucked cock." He sounds irritated. "Doesn't mean I like it."
Dillon pauses, studying Ziggy carefully. "That true?"
Ziggy closes up, defensive. "Are you fishing for another blowie, Dillon? Is that was this is? Cause I figured this was going to be one of those things that we never spoke of again and pretended didn't happen and you would go off with Summer and make dozens of ugly blonde babies together and live happily ever after, the end."
There are so many things Dillon wants to question about that statement, starting with the undeniable tone of jealousy, but his mouth is already moving of its own accord, morbidly curious. "Wait, why do you think my hypothetical kids are going to be ugly?"
"Two incredibly hot parents? Statistically those kids are doomed. Haven't you ever seen the product of two ugly people? There was this girl I knew once with two of the most hideous humans I'd ever seen parent a child and she was the hottest—"
"We're getting off track," Dillon cuts in and Ziggy rolls his eyes. "I'm serious Zig. We're partners; I should know this kind of stuff."
"How does knowing I can deep-throat affect our team dynamics?"
Deep-throat? Christ.
"Fine. It is something one friend might tell another though. Especially if those friends have a 'bond as special as ours'," Dillon teases, trying to break up some of the tension.
Ziggy tries to look put-out but ends up grinning instead. "We do share quite a bond. I mean, you followed me home that one time even though you were turning into an angsty killing machine just because I wowed you with some highly advanced ninja moves." He stops, suddenly bemused. "Who told you about the 'special bond' comment?"
"K was muttering about the debacle while she checked me over."
"Ah."
Silence. Oh, right. Dillon was working towards something.
"So are you going to tell me, or what?"
The Green Ranger hedges. "How would you describe this 'or what' option?"
"Ziggy."
"Oh fine," Ziggy sighs, exasperated, and slumps back onto his bed. "Yes, I happen to love giving head. I'm a big, queer cocksucker, thanks for asking. Are we done with this conversation now? Or do I have to remind you of a few of the choice comments you were making while doped up on pheromones?"
No, Ziggy doesn't have to remind him. He remembers quite clearly everything he said, embarrassing as it is. But Ziggy is obviously done with sharing, so Dillon relents. "Yeah, yeah." He fails to bite back a disappointed sigh and hopes Ziggy doesn't notice. Dillon isn't sure what he was expecting anyway, so he gets up to look for some sweats. "Want to go run your little 'ugly kid' theory by K when I'm out of the shower, see what she thinks?"
"You're honestly interested, aren't you?" muses Ziggy, clearly not referring to Dillon's question, and Dillon turns, startled, to find that Ziggy is right there, scrutinizing the Black Ranger as though he's just been handed a puzzle he doesn't yet have the pieces to solve. "But why?" Ziggy continues, directing the words more to himself than Dillon.
A couple seconds pass and then Ziggy seems to steel himself. "I wasn't gonna press, you know. About how very… enthusiastic you were today. Figured most of it could be blamed on the pheromone crap and the last time on the desk was mostly my fault. But you're being pushy, so I kind of want to be pushy too." He cocks his head, meets Dillon's eyes. "Was any of it real? Not just because one of us was affected by a sex-bot, but actual, honest desire?"
There it is; the million dollar question. Dillon's been asking himself the same thing since the second blow job and he thought he was no closer to figuring it out now. Only he's standing in their room holding a pair of sweatpants while staring at Ziggy's unflinching brown eyes, his pretty lashes, his wicked lips, and is suddenly, blindingly aware that there really is only one answer.
Ziggy's eyes darken when Dillon nods cautiously, pupils edging out like spilled ink, and he sort of sways forward, fisting a hand in Dillon's tank top. Heart beating violently, Dillon stands perfectly still, unsure of what to do, what he wants. The tension is about to suffocate him when Ziggy squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling unsteadily. Then he drops his hold and slumps forward, forehead finding Dillon's shoulder. The moment breaks.
"You make me crazy," Ziggy admits, muffled.
Dillon doesn't know how to respond, so he just wraps an arm around Ziggy's shoulder and then they're sort of hugging, and Dillon kind of wants Ziggy to leave so he can think straight, except for how he mostly wants to keep touching him. He's pretty sure this kind of internal struggle can't be healthy.
Ziggy makes the decision for him, pulling a face and saying, "You really do need a shower."
"Nag, nag, nag," sighs Dillon, mock irritated, and the world tilts back into place.