It's not that Dick doesn't enjoy these times he has alone with Nix. He does; they're what keep him going, some days. But this moment, on the bed in his billet with his hand down Nix's pants, isn't precisely what he wants. Most of their encounters, this one included, are as quick and as safe as it is possible to be while doing something that could see them both shot. The door is locked and the desk is pushed in front of it. The curtains are all drawn. Nix's pants are only pulled down a very little bit, just far enough for Dick to get his hand inside. Dick himself is still fully clothed. It's not comfortable, and somehow, it's not quite enough.
Part of Dick, the part he keeps tamped down because it contains all the things he wants and can't have, is dissatisfied. He knows that this type of encounter is all they can afford at the moment. It's quick and easy to recover from, should they be needed urgently elsewhere. But Dick can't help but think wistfully of the few times they've managed to do more. What he wants more than anything, apart, obviously from the war to be over and his men to stop dying, is for Nix to spread him open and make love to him.
Of course, there are other things he wants once the war is over and they have more time. He wants Nix to stop drinking, and he wants his quiet piece of land. But Nix isn't ready to hear about either of those things, yet. Eventually, Dick is sure, both of these goals will work themselves out. But in the meantime, there's no reason he can't tell Nix about this plan.
"Lew," he says, and Nix grunts and bucks up into Dick's hand. Dick is momentarily distracted by licking up a bead of sweat trickling down Nix's throat. From there it's not so much trouble to lift his head and kiss Nix's perfect, panting lips.
They're both breathless by the time Dick pulls away, and he remembers he had something he wanted to say.
"Lew," he tries again. "When this war is over, when we have more time, I want to be with you every night. I want to have you inside me every single night, Lew, for hours at a time."
Nix buries his face in Dick's shoulder and comes with a muffled cry of Dick's name. Dick puts his arm around him, the one that isn't down Nix's pants, and holds him while he shakes. After a few long, long moments, Nix pulls back and collapses against the other side of the bed. Dick is mesmerized by the way he's still so breathless, chest heaving and sweat pooling at the collar of the shirt he hadn't dared to take off.
Finally Nix looks up at him, eyes wide. "Did you mean that?"
"Of course," Dick says. He doesn't say things he doesn't mean. He pulls his sticky hand out of Nix's pants at last, and, after a moment of consideration, starts to lick it clean. Nix groans and when Dick looks back at him, he finds him watching, transfixed. They continue to watch each other until Dick's hand is clean again.
"Your turn," Nix says, voice rough and low. He pulls his pants the rest of the way up and buttons them before reaching over to undo Dick's. That's good, practical, but still something of a shame, Dick thinks. Nix pushes him to lie flat on his back and kneels over him.
"Jesus, Dick," Nix says as he pushes up the bottom of Dick's shirt and scoots down to nuzzle his stomach. "The things you make me wanna do."
Dick knows what he means. He'd never done anything like this before Nix and the war. But then, before the war, he'd never killed a man, either. Richard Winters is a man with a strict moral code. He's not a Quaker, but he does come from a family of proud Pennsylvania Protestants. There's a list of infractions in his head, now, things he's done that go against the type of person he'd like to be. During this war, he's killed. He's drunken alcohol. He's lain with another man. Those are things he can't take back; the men he's killed are never going to not be dead, and he's never not going to be in love with Lewis Nixon. There's nothing he can do to change those things. The key to survival and sanity, Dick thinks, is not to dwell on the things you can't change, but to try harder in other avenues of life to be a better person. That's something Dick can do, and maybe with his help, the man he loves can, too.
When Nix takes him in his mouth, Dick loses the ability to think for a while. All he can do is feel, Nix's soft hair under his hands and his hot, wet mouth around him. When he comes back to coherency, he realizes he's babbling. It's not something that happens often. Dick is a quiet man, by nature, and while the words he says are never measured, he doesn't just throw them about, either. But here he is, half out of his mind, begging Nix to fuck him, telling him how much he wants it, how good it will feel. When the climax hits him, he can't do anything but keen. It's loud, way too loud, and afterward, as he lies panting, they both wait, terrified, for any sign someone else may have heard.
When nothing happens for several minutes, Nix looks up at him, grinning. "Major Winters," he says, laughter in his voice. "Were you just engaging in pillow talk?"
Dick blushes and feels the heat all the way up to the roots of his hair. He must look a sight, because Nix begins to laugh, long and hard. It's good to see him happy, so Dick doesn't mind that the joke's at his expense.
After Nix manages to regain control of himself, he stretches out on the bed, watching Dick straighten his clothes with an unusually soft look in his eyes.
"You should go," Dick says, at last. It's just not safe for them to spend the night together, no matter how much they both want it.
Nix nods and sits up, reaching for his boots. He's quiet as he pulls them on and ties them, then crosses to the door and shoves the desk out of the way. Dick thinks he might leave without saying anything else, and knows he shouldn't be disappointed. Nix isn't the type of guy to spew sentimental platitudes. With his hand on the door, though, Nix looks back at him.
"What you said, Dick, about after the war. I want that, too." Then he leaves, goes back to his own billet for the rest of the night. In the morning, they'll have meetings, making plans for missions where more of their men will die. They'll have to pass by each other throughout the day without being able to touch or talk about anything not work related or casual small talk. It won't be easy or fun, but tomorrow night, if they're lucky and careful, they might be able to steal a few moments together. It won't be enough, but this war can't last forever, and when it finally ends, Dick is determined to get what he wants.