[Chilton nearly whimpered, pressed against the wall like that. His arm twisted behind him, his hips captured by Starr's own. His free hand desperately grabbed for thigh, hip, waist, torso -- and found all of it clothed. Tucked, belted, covered. He couldn't reach above the chest in his current position. Couldn't reach that throat again.
His shoulders drooped, and he sullenly stood in pinned place.]
no subject
His shoulders drooped, and he sullenly stood in pinned place.]
I've stopped. What is it that you want?