Wedding Bells (AU, for gunslingerqueen) (NSFW)

[toweredingly]

Roland had woken with a headache and a sinking sense of cold dread, and neither were because of the large amounts of whiskey and graf he'd drunk the night before. It was a familiar feeling; the same steady almost-fear settled into his bones whenever he saw a battle looming. But battles could be fought with gunfire and cold rage, with all thought pushed aside and the world coming at you moment by moment. Today was worse. Today was politics.

He'd set aside his usual jerkin and jeans for more formal gear. The suit itself wasn't so bad, but he felt naked without his guns at his hip. It would have been good to have their comfort, even if he had no intent of using them. Their weight had always been like having a part of his father still with him, and all the gunslingers of their line before him. Now, when he most felt need of that reassurance, he had to set it aside. Clean-shaven and well-heeled, with his hair pulled back into a queue and his feet rubbed by the hard leather of new shoes, he felt like another man - and one even less capable of facing all that lay ahead.

The wedding was in the morning, before the real Fair-Day began. Then things would take their usual course; the castle flung open to the people, the feasting and singing and Fair-Day riddling, with raucous good humour and doubtless a few fights. That was manageable. He had lived that every Fair-Day for his whole life. What frightened him, more than he would ever admit, was the part that came before and after.

"You look more like a man going to put a noose around her neck than a ring around her finger," Bert commented in his ear, bringing him back to the present. For his part, Bert looked perfectly at ease in formal wear, sauntering about and regarding Roland with a critical eye. Whatever dark mood had been slithering about under the surface, he seemed to have excised it for now.

Roland answered with a grunt, looking back ruefully at the gunbelt hanging over the back of his chair, and closed his eyes for a moment. "Is there a difference?"

"Dinh or no dinh, I'm not beyond punching you. Just for once, Ro', try to stop living in whatever darkness is going on in that bony head of yours, and relax." For once, Bert wasn't smiling. He slung an arm around his friend's shoulders, looking at him closely. "She's not Susan. I kennit, Ro'. But she's what Susan would have wanted for you. Carry that with you, at least."

"Thankee, Bert." Patting Cuthbert on the back, Roland shook his head and started towards the door. Towards the Hall of the Ancestors, where Burtock Hattlen waited in lieu of a dinh, where Alain was standing by with a ring.

The hall was filled, to a casual eye, but Roland saw the empty spaces more than the full. No Cort, no Vannay, no Stephen Deschain in the high seat. Many who should have been seated in the best places were gone. Somehow, that made it easier to settle his mind, straighten his spine, and wait steady and watchful at the front of the hall for his bride.

Comments

[gunslingerqueen]

That he wasn't in that study was a miracle, a blessed one as she didn't want to be in those walls for a while longer. If he was down in the fields she might have heard him which just left his room, not exactly the best place for her to be in but, oh well. This was more important. She pushed his door open, plenty noisy, and leaned against the frame whether he aimed his guns at her or not.

"Wouldn't have been worth it, and probably wouldn't have slowed anything by much. You're their dinh, not their executioner."

And the true problem had very little to do with Roland and everything to do with Farson. People lost their way and became easily confused when things dragged on for too long. It was natural, but no easier to deal with.

[toweredingly]

He didn't turn to look at her, just went on staring into the fire. "Way things are going, I won't be either for much longer," he said at last, quietly. "I'm not my father. I never will be. And I doubt I'll ever have their faith the way he did." Now he got to his feet, putting the gun down on the mantelpiece, although he still didn't turn. "He did bring me the letter, you know. I remember. But all I wanted was to be alone. I could have avoided this, if..." If the magic he'd picked up in Mejis hadn't still been there, eating away at his mind. If he wasn't back to being addicted. If, if, if. None of those were things he could say, though, so he let the sentence hang there, running a hand back through his hair as he turned to look at her.

"Are you all right?"

[gunslingerqueen]

"Feel free to explain how that line of thinking does you any good. A week ago you knew nothing about my mother and, considering the unfortunate implications, you might have been too busy accusing me of being just like your mother. That would have been what mine wanted. You would have been irritated by the time wasted, I would be dead, and you would have a second war lead by my grandmother to deal with."

She let herself in, but only partially closed the door as he had every right to throw her out when he liked. "You could not avoid this because you did not have control over this. You couldn't have. No one else could have, not even your father. And you might want to tell me otherwise all day until you are blue in the face, but it just isn't true. That man decided to live in the past, it was a detriment to himself and you, but his decision all the same." It took a deep breathe, but she very slowly, carefully added, "You said before that everyone here lives with ghosts. That your men revere your fathers is not your fault. It never was and, honestly, if anything I've heard of your father has even been half true I can't help thinking he'd have boxed them for being so difficult. I wish every day that I was more like my father, that I wasn't so fucking terrified all the time, but we are their children for a reason. We'll never be exactly like them, even if that would be easier."

As for whether she was all right or not? ... She had waited so long for him to ask that now the answer was just too large, and she didn't want to bother him with it. Or she was terrified of it herself, one or the other!

[toweredingly]

"I just..." Roland balled his fists at his sides for a moment, tightening his jaw. "This is his work, again. It has his stamp all over it. Whispers in the shadows, seducing men into thinking it's all their own idea... it's how he baited me into fighting Cort, it's how he ruined my mother, it's how he had my father killed. Henry's not the first to fall into Marten's traps, and he won't be the last, and if I could only find the fatherless son of a bitch..."

He shook his head sharply, like a horse trying to dislodge a fly. She was right. Ifs and buts would get him nowhere but deeper into his mounting rage. Swallowing the anger as best he could, he turned away, sloughing off his jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. The shirt underneath was bloody at the chest and shoulder, but he'd told the truth about it not being deep; the cut had already clotted black.

"This isn't just mine to carry," he said, his back to her. "I want an answer. Are you all right?"

[gunslingerqueen]

She could practically see him stamping it down with all the force in his body and it was nearly painful to witness. Again, he tried to push at something she sorely wished he would leave alone but her own metaphor returned. Wolf. Biting down on things. Hardheadedness. Talk about coming back around to bite her in the ass. The sight of blood on his clothing snapped her back to attention and she sighed loudly, half on purpose.

"You can have your answer if I can wrap your arm. Do you have bandages and cloth in here or do I need to go and get mine? And maybe don't argue with me, Roland, this is a very fair trade and it'll look a mess if you do it on your own. Also, I might have to kick your ass if you get an infection over such a silly wound."

One that still made her fret internally but she was long accustomed to hiding that sort of thing.

[toweredingly]

"I wouldn't argue." Roland nodded once, shortly, and went over to the chest of drawers. Out of the top drawer, he pulled out a little leather case. Dangerous as his life was, he'd always found it useful to have basic supplies close to hand - that, and he'd never shaken the habit after he'd stopped wandering. "You'll doubtless do a better job than I would. Though it's more chest than arm."

Turning his back again, he undid his cravat and started on his shirt. The worst part was getting the fabric off the cut; it stuck nastily, and he gritted his teeth as he worked it free from the clotted blood.

"From the fact that you feel the need to bargain," he commented without looking at her, shrugging off his shirt at last and tossing it on top of his abandoned jacket, "should I assume that it isn't as simple as 'yes'?"

[gunslingerqueen]

"Do you have some pervasive form of modesty, or something?" Because this whole refusing to look at her deal was really very strange. Whatever hesitance she felt about being in his space, which was still barren but that only meant it was certainly Roland's all the same, was gone in favor of taking care of him and now she stood much closer, just behind him in fact.

"No, it's very rarely that simple, unfortunately." She took the case whether he planned on liking it or not and opened it to see what was inside. It hadn't even been an hour, and if something was caught in the wound he'd have been gushing, not crushing over. She wondered if it hurt terribly anyway. "Really is a shame, I thought you looked wonderful in that."

And now it was all bloody. "Much better with the guns, though." That she had still avoided getting anywhere near the answer she had promised him should not be any grand surprise.

[toweredingly]

"It'll wash." Turning to face her, he indicated the case. "Bandages and a few herbs. It's not much, but nor's the hurt. It'll be worse in a couple of days, when it starts to itch. As for modesty..." Wonder of wonders, he actually twitched a short smile. "You saw me fresh out of the bath yesterday, and today we were married. I think if I were modest, I'd be over it by now."

Indicating for her to join him, he went to sit down on the edge of the bed, pausing only to pick up the ewer from the table by the window.

"Don't think I haven't noticed you deftly avoiding the question," he added, after a moment. There was a low concern in his voice.

[gunslingerqueen]

She worked it open and nodded, semi-approving, while she followed him and paused where he would inevitably sit. The ends of beds were comfy and not as subtly implicating as the front. "Eunyce should have more than enough of this, it can be stocked again." Thank goodness they had the most epic doctor in Mid-World here with them! It made her feel better, at least. Despite herself the reminder of yesterday made her grin, "Very true, but you never know."

And she smiled again even as she finally took a good look at what he had gotten himself for offing one of the men, but didn't speak. She needed a full three minutes before the right words came, but at least it was better than purposefully dodging the issue now, not that he would have let her get away with it any longer, as it was.

"I'm not all right, but by now I've lost track of how much of it has to do with just me, just you, both of us, or quite literally everything else. Which includes, but is certainly not limited to, the circumstances that have resulted in our marriage, the less insane part of my family, your friendship with Cuthbert, Farson, my mother, my mother's absolutely disgusting desire for her own son, and the sheep that's probably still in my tub, so I don't even get a hot bath at the end of the day. Because there's a fucking sheep in my tub."

At least working while she talked made everything easier, and she did a good job of cleaning off as much blood as she could (what he likely needed was another bath but, whatever). "And I know that if I stop thinking and doing and worrying about you or my cousins or my grandmother or my brother, the instant I actually try to clear out my mind I'm going to cry hysterically and feel so unbearably alone in this world, Roland. In fact I will have to deal with having felt alone this entire time. For years, in fact." She could wrap his chest on automatic but she did her best to respect his personal space.

"I'm not all right with how useless I was back there, how someone you have watched be strong since you were a child can't bring himself to respect you. And on the one hand it makes me want to punch him in the face because I can't look at you and imagine not respecting you, and also, I don't want anyone insulting my husband. That isn't allowed. But then, I should be more empathetic, and I should try to understand but, again," She actually paused and waved one hand, the other holding the bandage before she started again. "Ridiculous protective instinct, beats out everything else! I'm not all right with how weak I feel or the aforementioned terror that's been increasing for over a week now."

She had to tie this off since he didn't appear to have any pins. Hm. "I have no idea what I want, or what I need to feel better, and I keep worrying about the stupidest things like, how when I was a little girl I always imagined that, as a wife, I would always do certain things. And it would make me happy to do them, but none of that matters at all now, but I don't even know if I'm sad about that or not. I am so busy feeling things and trying to keep on for the sake of my family, and for you and I as a married couple - because one of us has to be the open one, the talkative one, or we'll never get anywhere - because if I don't then someone has to deal with me and I already put Ignis through that. I don't want to put you through it." And just in case he thought there was some end to her blunt nature: "In part because you would probably think I'm a complaining wench on top of having little idea of what to do with me in that state. So, there's no way in hell I'm all right, but I don't know what to do to fix it anymore, except keep smiling and helping and doing whatever seems right at the moment."

And that was the current state of Nariko Deschain.

[toweredingly]

Roland considered this for several moments, while she tied off the bandage and lowered her hands. At last, turning slightly to meet her eyes, he reached out rather cautiously to tuck her hair back behind her ear. "There are worse ways to deal with it," he said, his voice low. "You cope by putting your energy into doing what's right. There are plenty who can't do that. As for weak... what I saw of you today was anything but weak. You might not truly kennit, but you're a gunslinger at heart, and you have a gunslinger's strength. Telling yourself otherwise is only going to drag you down." Taking the medicine case from her, he snapped it shut and got up to return it to its drawer.

"I haven't been fair to you," he said after a moment, turning back to her with his back against the chest of drawers. He didn't sound self-deprecating or apologetic; he sounded as if he were stating a self-evident fact. "I've been running scared, and that is the truth. And, at the best of times, I'm not a gentle man. But if you feel alone here..." He pressed his lips together for a moment, closing his eyes, and tried to feel his way to a conclusion. "That's not right."

Running a hand back through his hair, he looked down at her with a slight frown. "I know the loyalty you show me is political, not personal. I appreciate that. But still, I have shown you little loyalty in return. And that's not right, either."

[gunslingerqueen]

Four and a half minute probably would have been better, seven gave her enough time to feel nervous and reach a whole new level of fear. She had said too much, complained too much and had looked pathetic for it. By the time he looked at her she was doing her best to refrain from crying. And yet when he touched her there weren't any tears, mostly she was just very surprised, and prepared to do whatever it took to keep that eighth moment. It was a really good one and if he hadn't moved she might have pushed him onto his bed and kissed him.

With space between them she pushed her hair back, the side he hadn't touched, actually, and sighed. She couldn't say he was wrong about any of that because, well, he wasn't, she could only correct one piece. "It's not, but I'll feel better about that particular issue if I manage to make friends. Or if I can get over the immense trust issues Cuthbert Allgood's mere presence gives me at times."

If that hurdle could be dealt with then he would make a wonderful friend. She needed someone to talk to, to do things with, to engage with, but she wouldn't be cruel and insist Roland be that type of man.

"My loyalty is as political as returning that kiss was, Roland. And I know you were drinking, I'm not saying you meant anything by it," She gave him a vaguely deadpan expression before even that had to melt away, she didn't have the energy for it. "What put me here is political, that much is true. The source of anything I feel towards you has nothing to do with politics."

here goes the drama queen again...

[toweredingly]

Roland was silent for another long stretch, his face unreadable. At last, he looked up at her again. "If I had met you first," he began, with the measured care of someone who is struggling with a concept, and then lapsed back into silence. He'd never been good with words. But they seemed to be what was needed right now. Sighing, he crossed back over to her in a couple of long strides, and hunkered down in front of her, to meet her eyes. "If my heart weren't weighed down with her, Nariko, I think I would have loved you. Loved you as I did her."

There. It was out. And, to his surprise, now that it was out, it no longer hurt to think of. Oh, it was hardly pleasant - whatever he felt for her, it was soured by circumstance, bitter with ghosts and sharp with unhealed scars - but it was no longer the abscess in his mind it had felt of late. He found himself wondering why, exactly, it had seemed to hard to contemplate.

Reaching out, he touched her face again, but this time not to brush her hair back, only to hold her gaze on him. "I am not going to be a good husband. You have to know that by now. And I think a great deal of my heart burnt away with her. But what I can give you, I will."

yep. and I just hear 'they could have had it alllll!!' sung in the background its that dramatic

[gunslingerqueen]

Lovely for him that it was such a relief to speak what she had feared, and for him to have said it while she had to feel as if a knife was driven straight through her chest. Not only would he have felt something for her but it would have been a something at the same level of ferocious devotion that he showed to a woman that was gone, now. Lovely to know that she was almost the first in someone's heart.

This time she had no idea what to do with his touch and it was quite funny how easily the details of an action could change based on circumstance. Even worse than that, if Roland couldn't come back from what he felt then she sure as shit didn't have reason to feel hopeful.

"Well, you aren't obligated to give me even that much," And that was true, he could just choose to ignore her completely, so she worked up a smile and thought about puppies and said, "Thank you, Roland."

Mostly for listening to her and not making her feel terrible, she wasn't entirely sure how to respond to what he said. 'I would have loved you but I'm not going to try and love you properly even having an idea of what kind of person you are, and despite the fact that no one is getting any deader.' A little difficult to figure a response for especially since all that she had mentioned was a kiss.

lol, pretty much

[toweredingly]

"The best I can give you is honesty," he said after a little while, withdrawing his hand. "But it might be the worst I can give you, too. For that, I'm sorry." He meant it. Love her or not, he certainly cared for her wellbeing, and it didn't take the Touch to know that what he'd said had hurt her. Pulling away, he got to his feet. "I'll see about getting you a bath. The one in here should be easy enough to fill, and I can find somewhere else to be if you'd sooner I didn't see you naked."

It was hard to tell, with how well he schooled his expression and how unwilling he was to acknowledge it even to himself, but he was thoroughly embarrassed, and not a little angry. This hadn't been remotely how he had wanted this conversation to go.

[gunslingerqueen]

There might have been something wrong with her if it didn't hurt considering that Roland was the type of man she wanted to be able to genuinely spend her life with, rough in nature or not. "It's a body, it looks much the same as others with slight changes. And as you said, there isn't much use in being modest by now." She wouldn't have been if anything happened before they were married, either. She wasn't pretty enough for anyone to want to really be with, something that Roland had confirmed as well Christian, but she didn't have anything to be ashamed of.

"Although that does remind me," Her turn to be embarrassed though for very different reasons, and very obviously so. "... Thank you, for what you said before. I know it likely doesn't have much to do with me at all, but it was still nice to hear."

[toweredingly]

Given how angry he'd been when he said it, it took him a moment to pin down what, exactly, she meant. When he did, he shook his head. "It had everything to do with you. Not only you, that's true, but..." He shrugged one shoulder, the unbandaged one. "You've suffered enough injustice as it is. And you deserve none of it."

Going to pick up his shirt, he looked away, more awkward than he would ever have wanted to admit. If what had happened earlier had put him out of his comfort zone, now he couldn't see his comfort zone on a clear day. It was much easier, as she'd said, to focus on doing something. That was mostly why he now slung on his shirt, letting it hang open in the front, and headed for the door to call for hot water.

Halfway there, he turned, a thought occurring to him. Perhaps bizarrely, he was more comfortable with it than with most of the conversation so far. "After all this, I'm going to need to let off steam. I'd sooner it be with you, but if you'd rather I settled for my hand, you're going to have to let me know."

[gunslingerqueen]

"You might be the only one that feels that way." But she appreciated it even as he looked away and obviously wasn't able to see that, by the time he had gone about the useless act of putting on a bloody shirt she had enough time to look at him funny for it. It didn't make her any sense and she would have made a joke if not for that statement.

He just ... Said it! And so easily! What sort of bizarre hell had she entered and why did no one give her a drink with her admittance?

"No, you don't have to 'settle' for anything." She paused, blinking at him like the confused existence she happened to be. "... You might have saved me a lot of trouble if you were that straightforward about this topic earlier." All that back and forth she had done in her own mind had been for nothing. He literally reduced it to either/or. And of course she would take the 'or', hell, this might be the only time in the duration of their marriage that they might even have sex for all that she knew. He didn't look like the type that would have a need for it the way she did.

[toweredingly]

"If I'd thought to be, I might have saved us both a lot of trouble," Roland acknowledged after a moment, and shrugged one shoulder. "I assumed if you wanted to fuck before now, you'd have done something about it." And that was perfectly frank. In her situation, he would have done something about it. Hells, if he hadn't been so busy tying himself in knots about feelings, he would already have done something about it. The only reason he'd had any hangups about it was that he hadn't been sure what else would get tangled up with it.

Shaking his head a little, he turned back to the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

[gunslingerqueen]

If this asshole shrugged his shoulder one more time she was going to get off of this bed and punch him in his stupid, handsome face. "The eight times that I have had to physically stop myself from touching you beat out your assumptions, Roland. You're the reason my left wrist hurts so damn much!" Alright, maybe that was a little too much information but now he had it, too bad!

While he faced the door Nariko gave up on everything and allowed herself to fall back on his bed. "Ten is a far more accurate number considering these last few conversations." And she didn't care if he was around to hear it or not, she just closed her eyes and sighed. This bed felt nice. And she was still married to a part-time, didn't-mean-to-be asshole!

Things could probably be worse. ... Somehow.

But she didn't care to think on how. For as much as Nariko had feared being left on her own for too long it suddenly didn't feel so terrible. Quiet, but that was good, that same quiet forced her to replay his words as if the repetition might make them hurt less but that would never be the case. It only hurt that much more because it was said from his lips, from the moment she had heard that damned name it had always been the case. Susan was important, everyone else was lucky to be more than a footnote. She opened her eyes again and stood to unbuckle her holster, and left it that.

[toweredingly]

Roland returned a few minutes later, his shirt gone again (he had handed it off to be washed). He didn't say anything, just closed the door behind him, strode across the room, and kissed her. It was easier than trying to find words, and probably got how he felt across better. She wanted him. He wanted her. He was done with talking about it, and done with trying to justify things to himself or to her.

His kiss wasn't unlike the kiss of the day before, in intensity and depth. The biggest difference was that, where yesterday's had been brief and frustrated, this was slower, more demanding. One hand cupped the back of her neck, the other running up her side to her breast.

"We have a good half-hour before anyone comes up here," he said, pulling away a little. "Likely more, with all else that's happening. Let's see about sparing your wrist."

[gunslingerqueen]

In her room everything was arranged just so. She knew where to put her clothes, her guns, everything for her hair (including an obnoxious collection of ribbons) but she did not know what the hell to do here. This was the problem with coming into someone else's space, it was difficult to feel like anything but some foreign invasion. By the time he returned she had mostly shaken off the feeling and was instead focused on getting as many flowers out of her hair as possible. Eunyce really went overboard with it.

She had enough time to raise a brow at him before, well, they kissed, and the first time wasn't some freak accident - It still felt good, and even worse than that it felt natural for her. Rather than think about if that had anything to do with him or not she answered his demand with her own, both arms finding their way around his neck, secure but loose at once. There was a relieved, blatantly desiring moan to go along with his touch but otherwise she got the message loud and clear. No more talking about serious bullshit, and that was just fine with her.

"A decent enough start," Because a half hour wasn't very long to her but, then, after three months nothing was going to feel long, except more talking that might feel like a lifetime. She shut them both up with another kiss while she reached down to deal with his belt and trousers, both needed to be off and out of the way once and for all.

[toweredingly]

He kissed back hungrily, unfastening her dress with one hand while the other hand worked its way into the complex twists of her hair. No matter what else might go along with it, she was a beautiful woman and his dry spell had only been a little shorter than hers. His blood was running hot, all the more so because of the built-up adrenaline from before, and he was already half-hard as he kissed and sucked his way down her neck, nipping at the soft curve where neck met shoulder.

Kicking off his shoes, he pulled away for a moment, but only long enough to strip off his gunbelts and lay them down on the dresser. Then he moved back in, sliding one calloused hand up under her skirts to cup her ass and the other around her shoulders, and went to kiss her again.

[gunslingerqueen]

Hungry was easy to deal with, hell, she practically embodied that even on a good day. Somewhere between their lips meeting and the inevitable parting she smiled, not teasingly or cruel just genuinely pleased. Being touched and wanted again was indescribable, especially after having faced the possibility that he might never hold a lasting interest in her, physically. It didn't have to be about love to be easy and that was what made it great, and so easy to be distracted by his excitement, giving up on his clothes and dropping her touch just enough to shamelessly feel him through the material. What could she say? Curiosity was a pervasive trait. Just feeling became just stroking because half-hard wasn't as good as completely, and the only thing she wanted just as much as him inside of her was to make him want this even more than he already did.

She actually pouted when pulled from her but in those few seconds she managed to get her hair undone and boots off, she might have gotten to her dress but not kissing Roland wasn't a good decision. She nipped gently at his lower lip at first but then with increasing roughness, in part because there wasn't anything wrong with being a little mean, and because she wasn't out to genuinely hurt him. This time she was determined to get his pants undone and on the floor, her free hand pushing at her fucking useless dress.

[toweredingly]

Letting out a little huff of a groan against her mouth, he let go of Nariko's shoulders to help push his trousers and drawers off, stepping out of them and breaking the kiss long enough to pull her dress off for good measure. Nakedness had never been something he was self-conscious about; he had nothing to be ashamed of in that regard, even if by some miracle it had occurred to him to even think of it. He was lean and wiry, long-legged and sharp-edged, and with the blurred tan of someone who had spent his life outdoors.

Naked, he was no less at ease in his body, and no less confident of its ability to do what was asked of it. Which might go some way to explaining why his next move was to pick her up, still kissing her, hands sliding under her thighs. His erection pressing against her, he carried her over to press her up against the wall, ducking his head to bite at the tops of her breasts.

[gunslingerqueen]

He didn't give her enough time for a decent look over but she would agree with that natural born ease anyway. Of course Roland was beyond attractive but as she said before, a body was a body, the specifics came from other avenues, which was why she was pretty damned glad to finally be naked herself.

But it seemed he had his own plan, and it wasn't a bad one. She squeaked a little at being lifted, and then laughed softly without interrupting their kiss somehow, maybe by magic. "Show off," It was muttered affectionately as he trailed down, and then followed by a sharp moan. The bed had been her overall goal here, for her own reasons, but what decent woman would say no to this? Not a sane one. She allowed her fingers to card through his hair, down his neck and to his shoulders while she braced her shoulders against the wall, and snaked one hand between them without interrupting him. She didn't press him into her, that would be to easy and devoid her of any chance to tease even slightly. No, pressing him against the very obvious slick between her legs so that it was easier to stroke his length was far more appealing, and also a personal call back. 'Settle for his hand' her ass!