Neal was nervous. He'd seen Peter (Master Peter) watching him from the balcony where he'd been talking with an older man - probably his boss. He couldn't stare at them, as much as he wanted to try to read their lips, but he did look up and see Peter (Master Peter, as he kept reminding himself) lick his lips.

Neal wondered how long before this man - who had such a strong sense of honor and even stronger self control - took what he so clearly wanted.

He'd never felt any shame at trading his so-called "virtue" for security and better living conditions in prison. Bobby wasn't a bad guy and if sucking his cock every Thursday meant that the cons and the other guards knew he was off-limits, then so be it.

But Peter (damn it, Master Peter) wasn't going to be content with a Thursday night blow job. And frankly, Neal wasn't sure he would be, either.