In the cramped cell, JT Wrecker's tiny frame twitches with desire, his hand moving swiftly under the blanket. His cellmate, a rugged, tattooed top, notices, his gaze locked on JT's subtle movements. The room fills with the scent of precum as JT's strokes quicken, his breath hitching. The top's voice, rough and commanding, breaks the silence, "You like that, don't you, little one?" JT nods, his eyes meeting the top's intense stare. The top grins, his hand joining JT's under the blanket, guiding him, teaching him the dance of their shared desire.