It's comfortable.
That isn't the first thing that popped into his head when McCree straddled his lap, but it is a lasting thought. How the weight is solid, evenly distributed. Sturdy enough that he can place his hands on those hips and squeeze without fear of causing discomfort.
So he does.
He squeezes those hips and the thin, pleasant layer of cushion that covers firm muscle underneath. Squeezes until Jesse huffs out a laugh and knocks his chest with the back of his flesh hand.
But he isn't told to stop, so he continues. Fingers pressing inwards along lower back... Playing over the starting swell of ass and humming in satisfaction as Jesse leans into him because of it. How the rugged scent floods his nose... But also his mind, too. The heady tobacco, the hint of leather and oil, gunpowder and metal... A dangerous combination to suit a dangerous man.
A dangerous man who was in his lap, murmuring pet names along his ear and tickling his beard with the air from it all.
Hanzo flexes his hands to splay them over each cheek, ignoring the hitch in his cowboy's voice as he does so.
Yes, he is content with this.
It is, after all, very comfortable.
