Liebgott was standing by a supply truck, pretending to look in his pockets for his lighter. Webster stood a few feet away, laughing along with Malarkey and Luz and Perconte. Something must have been pretty damn funny, because Webster’s head was thrown back and his eyes were sparkling and his whole face was as lit up as the fucking sun. A light breeze picked up and ruffled his hair as Webster leaned over to hear what Perconte was saying. Liebgott wished Webster would keep talking, just so he could watch his lips move.
Nixon cleared his throat next to him. Liebgott jumped.
“Have you told him?” Nixon asked, completely nonchalant about it.
“Sir?” Liebgott hurriedly pulled his lighter out and lit his cigarette, looking away from where his attention had previously been directed.
Nixon nodded towards Webster.
“It’s not that hard to put two and two together, Joe.” Nix said it with a hint of sadness that Liebgott chose to ignore.
“You don’t have to tell me. Jesus, it’s not like we’re friends. I just figured if there was anyone who could talk to you about that sort of thing, it’d be me.”
Liebgott looked up cautiously, taking a slow drag off his cigarette. “What do you mean, sir?”
“I mean I have certain… predilections. Being from the stifled-in-rules upper class and all that. If you know what I mean.”
Liebgott blinked up at Nixon and Nixon just stared back. They way he could just casually put something like that out there, in the open, made Liebgott feel dangerous. Like this was a challenge. Or maybe it was just an opportunity.
Liebgott eventually shrugged and blew smoke through his nose. Nixon leaned forward into Liebgott’s personal space and plucked the cigarette from between Liebgott’s lips. Nixon took a drag without stepping back and blew smoke into Liebgott’s still-open mouth. Liebgott stood his ground and suddenly they were two bristled and growling dogs, just looking for something to fight about.
Nixon backed down when his cigarette was almost burnt out.
Liebgott took out another cigarette as Nixon went back the way he had come. Liebgott turned back to where his attention had been before, but Webster was gone.
He sunk to the ground, his hands tugging at his hair. Smoke billowed up from his mouth as he let his eyes slide closed.
Liebgott was wandering aimlessly between a couple of buildings while all the paratroopers were bunking down, the end of his cigarette the only light in the dark.
Nixon rounded the corner and saw Liebgott before Liebgott saw him.
“You know, it’s funny because the Harvard boys always did get all the prettiest girls.” Nixon slurred, laughing until he hiccupped.
“The fuck?” Liebgott jumped for the second time that day.
“Oh, so you drop the formalities after dark, soldier?” Nixon made his way towards Liebgott, stumbling slightly.
“Nix, shut the fuck up and leave me alone. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were following me.” Liebgott said gruffly as he made to walk away. Nixon started talking again and Liebgott paused.
“Only for tonight, Joe. I’m drunk and horny as fuck. I ain’t no queer though.”
Liebgott waited. He could feel Nixon walking up behind him.
“So whataya say, soldier. Can we help each other out?”
Liebgott turned around to look at Nixon. There was a hungry look in his eyes but he wasn’t hungry for him; he was just hungry for something. Liebgott imagined that his face probably didn’t look much different.
Liebgott flicked his cigarette to the ground and nodded. No reason to waste an opportunity.
Nixon let a smirk grace his face before walking past Liebgott and heading around the corner. Liebgott fell into step behind him as they made their way to Nixon’s quarters.
Nixon had Liebgott naked and against a hardwood desk. He was palming Liebgott’s ass and Liebgott was keeping his teeth gritted.
“Joe, c’mon, I need to hear you.” Nixon panted out.
“Jesus H. Christ. I’m never walking in dark alleyways by myself again.” Liebgott groaned, scrambling for purchase. His nails scraped lines of paint off of the edge of the desk.
“Ya, well I’m your superior officer. So bend over.” Nixon pushed at Liebgott’s shoulder blades and sent Liebgott almost face first into the desk. He tried to maneuver himself so that his dick could have more room, but Nixon was already moving on to phase two of operation: fuck a technician fifth grade.
Nixon spread Liebgott’s ass cheeks with his hands and dived in between with his tongue. He licked at the tight heat, following the crease before he licked his way inside.
Liebgott looked back over his shoulder but Nixon pushed him forward. Liebgott’s skin was slick with sweat and he was having trouble holding onto the desk. Grunts and moans filtered through the room, but neither of them wanted to sound like a girl and they tried to keep their mouths closed.
Nixon licked in and out a few more times before he let go of Liebgott to unbutton his pants and shove them down to his knees.
“Fucking Christ, my dick is hurting. You take any longer and I’m going to change my goddamned mind.” Liebgott gritted out as he repositioned himself, preparing for Nixon.
“Like hell you are.” Nixon grunted in reply. He shoved Liebgott forward and Liebgott rested his forehead on the desk. Nix spit into his hands and slicked himself, and then he was pushing inside. Liebgott growled and pushed back.
Nixon rocked into him and the desk kept hitting the wall with each thrust.
“Fuck yeah.” Nixon was slurring.
“Harder.” Liebgott wanted to make sure he didn’t think about anything else. He wanted his mind to be empty. He wanted to be here, in this moment, with nothing. Nothing but the simple and easy and uncomplicated sin they were committing.
Nixon obliged in Liebgott’s fantasy, if only for a few minutes longer.
“Joe, you have a sweet ass. Fuck.” Nixon slammed Liebgott up against the desk and Liebgott shoved his fist into his mouth to keep from calling out something he would regret.
Nixon grunted some more choice words before he pulled out and finished himself off. Liebgott pushed himself off the desk to stroke himself roughly a few times, with Nixon coaching him.
Both slightly more satiated then they had been before, they appraised each other with half-lidded eyes.
“Thanks, man.” Nixon said easily, pulling a cigarette pack and a lighter from his jacket which had previously been abandoned on the floor.
Liebgott just nodded, watching as Nixon pulled his pants back on. He took the offered cigarette and let Nixon light it for him.
“So.” Nixon started slowly, blowing out smoke.
“So.” Liebgott watched the smoke curl between them until he could barely make out Nixon’s bleary eyed expression.
“You should tell him.” Nixon didn't sound jealous or moved or even wistful. He just said it like it was a fact that Liebgott could concede to.
But the thing is, Liebgott can’t.
He pulled his pants on and gathered his clothes, offered Nixon a nod, and headed back to his barracks. Alone. The darkness tried to swallow him, but he just kept furiously smoking his cigarette, watching the smoke tendrils disappear with the breeze.