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When Derek’s penis first sees (and isn’t that a relative term, hah! but it's like something about messages from the brain and being all-knowing) another dick that’s not one of the pack, he gets really fucking confused.
They’re at some grimy gas station, god knows where, and Derek’s dick (who we’ll call Big D, because duh), having been trapped in suffocating circumstances with the low-hangers and Derek’s sweaty, hairy thighs, is just happy to be getting some air.
So there’s Big D, finally breathing free, finally letting go of all the pressure building up, loving the way it splatters against the porcelain, makes some of the dirt break apart and slide down to the drain, and then he sees him. Or he doesn’t, but Derek must glance over at the dude who breaks all urinal etiquette rules and stands right. next. to. Derek. even though all the other urinals are empty. (He’s wearing leather boots and jacket, ratty jeans, and smells like motor oil and whiskey. In hindsight, Big D will laugh about this, often.)
This other dick is not like Big D. And Big D realizes that Derek, or his brain, had already known about this, had even seen others, as they now flash through a collective knowledge, that Big D didn’t have before. He gets pissed, and twitches in Derek’s hand, making Derek swear under his breath. It should probably be said now: Big D can be a bit – sorry, lot – of a dick sometimes. Derek swears, the guy looks over at Derek, and Derek doesn’t want any issues, already having some controlling his wolf inside, so Big D gets a shakedown, a rough shove, and they leave.
And Big D is back to being trapped inside of Derek’s too-tight jeans, thinking about the other dick. The way he is now, all snug, a seam pressing just above his root, he supposes he feels okay, but Big D attributes much of that to his built-in blanket, the foreskin, his very own personal snuggie. (If snuggies fit perfectly and didn’t leave lint everywhere.) Big D really fucking hated lint. But this other cock, it didn’t have a foreskin, and damn, if that’s not an interesting thought. So Big D keeps thinking about it, drawing all the blood it can from the brain, all the fucking knowledge the brain’s been keeping from him, that asshole- sorry, the actual asshole has very little to do with this, and we shouldn’t be so crass.
So the brain is a jerk and Big D, with all his dick-knowledge flashing through right now, could really go for a jerk or two from Derek’s left hand. It’s so fascinating, thinking about other dicks now, foreskins and not, and how they might fit, the way Big D is used to thinking about pussies, Kate especially, but he knows that’s not something they’ll talk about again. And maybe it is time for a change of scenery, so other dicks seem like a good place to start.
Big D continues his thinking, all the way to wherever their destination is, he doesn’t care, just knows that he can hear Derek and Laura talking beyond the confines of the tight pants, and that Derek waits until she’s gone (her pussy never interested them, something about societal norms Big D didn’t get, whatever) to shove his jeans down quickly and finally fucking pull Big D out again.
Derek grips him hard with his left hand, the right one slipping down to tug on the boys and yeah, they’re in business. The brain gives up all control, shutting off but for the minimal images sent down, this time of strong hands pushing and tugging and of another cock, the one Big D remembers from the gas station. Leftie gives Big D just the right amount of pressure, tugging the foreskin back and forth, like some fucked up breathplay every time it covers Big D up, so tight now that he’s as hard as he can be. He loves it this way, loves the way Leftie speeds up just how he likes it, gets tighter and tighter, and the way the balls work so well with him, getting all nice and tight right up til he’s spurting up and all over Derek’s jeans (that’ll show ‘em!), feeling good.
After that, Big D (and Derek) don’t give much thought to other dicks for a while, they get busy (running, hiding, travelling, working, more running)...until Big D meets Little S (who hates the name), but that’s a story for another time.