When he'd thought about it--of course he'd thought about it, they lived in each other's pockets, and he was only human--John had figured Rodney in bed would pretty much be like Rodney anywhere else--greedy and, yeah, selfish, taking what he could get, and afterward, dismissing you and your afterglow with a scathing remark and a go-away-now flick of the hand.
And--well, that, John wasn't wrong. The first time he touched Rodney with that kind of intent, both of them kind of crazy-eyed and shaking inside and out and not even trying to hide it--after a stunned moment, when Rodney's brain caught up to what was happening, he blinked and said "Yes, hell yes," grabbed John, and just went for what he wanted; pushy, greedy, and loud, totally without shame.
But when it was over and John could breathe again, could remember his own name, what happened was: Rodney turned and landed those huge eyes on him, and instead of waving him off, one of his hands reached out and hovered, trembling, like it wasn't sure what it wanted to touch was real. And what he said was:
"I--we really just--I can't believe--"
Words failing him, Rodney stroked John's face with that shaking hand. "Thank you."
And the way he said it, so heartfelt, so grateful, all of it so far from what he'd expected--John was the kind of guy who was okay with being wrong, if it got him something better.