Utility & Satisfaction

Warnings: Sexually Explicit Content, Slight OOC

Kongpob is having a really difficult time studying for his entrance exam, so Arthit offers him some…assistance.

Sometimes, Kongpob wonders if he’s truly cut out to study economics, or if his naïve high school self had simply been looking to go against the grain of what his parents expected of him. Engineering, while not his first choice, had least been a fruitful experience both in his learning and, of course, his personal life.

It’s a Friday evening, and while most of his friends are either already starting their first jobs, or out enjoying their last summer of unadulterated fun before their contracts begin, Kongpob is cooped up indoors staring at the jumbled diagrams and words on the pages his three-inch thick textbook, the top recommended resource in preparation for the entrance exam to his applied programme.

He’s been glaring helplessly at the same page for the past half hour, occasionally copying out half-assed key points into his notebook, but none of the information forming any coherence in his goo-like brain. 

Utility is a term in economics that…something….defines whether or not something has the ability to gain or not gain from…something…

It doesn’t help that the textbook is in his second language, and it’s taking him twice as long to parse each and every word to full comprehension. Why, again, had he thought it was a good idea to do a masters? Who in their right mind would subject themselves to more studying after over fifteen long, grating years of schooling? He must be a glutton for punishment.

“P’Arthiiiit,” he whines, looking up with a pout and his best puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one who has an exam to pass.” 

Arthit doesn’t even look up from his comic book, but he shakes his head and smirks.

They’re in his apartment, Kongpob hunched over the small table by the window, Arthit leaning against the headboard of the bed. Despite that the academic year had already finished, Kongpob had somehow convinced his parents to let him stay on campus until he had to go abroad (if at all), claiming that it wouldn’t make any sense to move twice in such a short space of time. However, he still spent most nights with Arthit, gradually weaselling his way into cohabitation by taking up drawer and bathroom counter space, cooking their meals while Arthit was at work.

Kongpob gets up, plopping down on the edge of the bed with the gargantuan book in hand. 

“Help me.” he pulls the comic book down away from his boyfriend’s face. Arthit rolls his eyes, placing his comic book to the side of him on the bed.

“How would I be of any help? I don’t know anything about economics.”

“I’ve been reading this page over and over again and I still don’t really get it. It’s not actually that difficult, but I just can’t absorb it for some reason.”

He huffs in exasperation, then pushes Arthit’s legs apart before shifting himself backwards to nestle between them, his back against Arthit’s chest and his head tucked into the crook of his neck.

“What are you doing?”


Arthit sighs, but brings his arms around his junior to rest his hands on his stomach, pulling him closer. Kongpob’s back is warm, the material of his shirt soft, and his hair fluffy and smelling like grapefruit shampoo. It’s nice, Arthit admits, this comforting feeling of closeness. 

With Kongpob constantly being stressed out over this wretched exam that would take place in three weeks, they hadn’t really found the time to go out on dates, nor really done much together at home other than study.

Kongpob runs a finger over the same line he’s been repeatedly scanning, as though trying to magically absorb the information through pure touch. The book is propped up on his bent knees, feet planted firmly onto the mattress. 

“Seriously, I just can’t process any of it.” he grumbles. “It’s like I suddenly forgot how to read.”

“You know, you can’t just study by reading. There are studies that show that you need to use more practical techniques. Like writing concise notes about it, or trying to teach someone else.”

Arthit absent-mindedly pets his boyfriend’s hair, separating the strands before pulling out a stray white hair on the top of his head. They’d taken to doing this for each other ever since Kongpob had first spotted one in the back of Arthit’s head, and said it made him look wiser. Arthit, on the other hand, had insisted he pull it out, saying he was too young to have greying hair. Thus ensued a chain of plucking like monkeys picking fleas out of each other’s matted fur. 

“Ow! I did try writing notes, but after a while it just felt like I was copying out words to practise my penmanship.”

“Okay, why don’t you try and teach me about what you’re reading then?”

Kongpob tilts his head to glance up at Arthit’s face, grinning.

“Can I?”

“I’m not promising I’ll actually get it, but if it helps you, yeah.”

There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes, and Arthit already dreads the next predictable question that’s about to come out of his mouth.

“What do I get if I manage to explain it to you?”

“You get to go back to the desk knowing that you’ve studied well and are more likely to pass your exam.”

“You’re no fun,” Kongpob groans. “Please? We haven’t done it in a week now.”

He takes Arthit’s chin, angling his face down to kiss him. Arthit yanks his chin away and glares at him indignantly. 

“Delayed gratification, Kong. It’ll be worth the wait. Now come on, explain this to me.”

Sighing, Kongpob returns his gaze to the indecipherable page, trying to figure out where to even begin. 

“Okay. This chapter is talking about utility, which is basically how much power something has to provide satisfaction. So like, how much you enjoy pink milk -“

“Kongpob!” Arthit lightly smacks his stomach.

“I’m kidding!” his boyfriend laughs. “Okay fine, for example, how much satisfaction I get from being in your arms.”

Kongpob can sense his senior’s eyes rolling so far into the back of his head that he can see his organs.

“Therefore, utility is the measure of how much satisfaction something can bring. Anything where we can make a decision between more than one option has comparable utility.”

“So it compares how much satisfaction one thing brings over another.” Arthit ponders aloud, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of Kong’s shirt.

“Exactly. And we draw this comparison by using the measurement unit of utils. As with most measurements, the higher the unit of utils, the higher the level of satisfaction. Obviously, we can’t really measure satisfaction, per se, but…”

As Kongpob continues to ramble on about utils, Arthit is either feeling slightly delirious from the smell of his boyfriend pressed up so close against him, or the seriousness with which he’s explaining these terms to him has put him in the mood to tease him. His fingers graze lightly over the material of Kongpob’s shirt, drawing slow, lazy circles right below his belly button.

“Wh-what are you doing, P’Arthit?”

“Nothing. Keep reading.” His voice is calm and steady. “I’m listening.”

“O…okay.” Kongpob says, but Arthit can feel him tense slightly against his chest. “Utility is different from how ‘good’ something is. You can gain satisfaction from something, but it doesn’t mean it necessarily has g-good…consequences.” 

His breath hitches slightly as Arthit lifts the hem of his shirt to toy with the downy hair leading down past the elastic of his boxers.

“Can you give an example?” Arthit smirks, his voice feigning innocence. He carefully slips a hand under Kongpob’s waistband, fingers gently running through the thick, wiry hairs lining his groin.

“I- uh….an example…” Kongpob’s head is cloudy and struggling to focus on anything but the sensation of the teasing hand in his shorts, but scrambles for any words that might help him form an answer.

“Yes, an example.” 

Arthit’s warm, soft hand has reached the base of his boyfriend’s cock where he fondles it between his fingers, the flesh slowly hardening under his touch. Kongpob’s breathing heaves unsteadily against Arthit’s chest, rising and falling with difficulty.

“F-for example, I can get s-satisfaction – oh god – um, from uh….eating pizza.”

“Mmhmm…go on…” 

Kongpob grapples between his brain and his groin to form the next part of his explanation, his vision glazed over with craving and need, but he gulps, hands gripping the pages.

“But…um…even though I looo-ove pizza…it….it isn’t really g-good – so good, ahhh…for me…”

Arthit is carefully pumping the thick length now, deeply breathing in the familiar musky scent of Kongpob’s dampening skin on his temples. He leans down and takes the shell of his junior’s earlobe between his teeth, scraping the skin lightly and delighting in the shiver this produces in the body in front of him. 

“Does it matter whether or not it’s good for you?” 

“That….that would depend on…shit, P’, I’m gonna -“

“Ah, ah, not yet.” Arthit slows his movements, pressing his thumb over the slit and gently rubbing the precum over the head in a manner so tantalisingly slow that it has Kongpob gasping. “Keep going. What does it depend on?”

“It – oh fuck! It depends on…wh-whether or not…the person..eee-eating the pizza…cares about – nngghhh – about that kind of thing…”

He’s trembling now, the need to come some overwhelming that the book has slipped out of his hands and between their legs onto the mattress. Instead, his hands are gripping Arthit’s thighs, pulling him closer, and he’s arching against his boyfriend’s chest, a whimper escaping his lips.

“So would you consider this simply useful, or…satisfying?”

“I…I’d say it’s…almost satisfying.” he manages to choke out between desperate sobs.

“Almost? And here I was thinking I was doing a good job.”

He’s practically tugging at Kongpob’s throbbing length now, slick with moisture and enlarged with all the blood rushing to his groin. Arthit’s own hard on is forming in his shorts with the friction from Kong’s anguished squirming against his front. 

“Yes…yes! Please, P’Arthit, I just need to-“

“Come for me, Kong. Don’t I satisfy you?”

“You do…I…oh, god, I’m -“

The writhing mess of a young man grasps at the material of Arthit’s shorts, and he spills onto the front of his own shirt and onto Arthit’s fingers, the fluid coming out in several hot spurts as he shudders with each one. 

Arthit, clearly amused and deeply content with how Kongpob has completely collapsed against his chest, pulls his sticky fingers out of his boyfriend’s shorts. He looks at them briefly, wondering what to do with his hand, eyes searching for tissues but finding none. Normally when Kong did this to him, he had no issue making a show of lapping Arthit’s come off of his fingers, but he’d never done the same in return.

Slightly self-conscious and nervous at the prospect, he cautiously brings his hand to his own lips, carefully and tentatively sticking his tongue out to scoop up a drop of the results of his work. He revels in the unique salty taste, not unpleasant, but nothing like he’s ever tasted before. Deciding that he actually quite likes it, he begins lapping up the rest, thankful that Kongpob is still too distracted by his high to notice. 

Once he’s licked his fingers clean, he tilts Kongpob’s chin sideways to look at him, then places a soft, wet kiss on his mouth. They continue to kiss like this for a few moments, up close and nibbling, noses deeply breathing each other in.

“Do you understand it now?” Arthit teases once they break apart. 

Kongpob just stares at him, his eyes full of wonder and amazement at what’s just happened.

“I think I understand this page now, yes.” he breathes, his chest still heaving slightly.

“Good,” Arthit smirks at him. “Now you’ve gotten both the satisfaction and usefulness, you can study on your own now.”

Kongpob immediately sits up, turning around to pin Arthit’s shoulders to the headboard.

“Wait, P’Arthit,” a playful grin forming on his lips. “I should thank you for being so…helpful.”

Arthit narrows his eyes in a glare.

“I would be very thankful if you would get back to your actual studying.” he says, prying Kongpob’s fingers off of him and slithering out from underneath his hold. 

His cheeks bloom with a faint wash of pink, flustered by the attention. His boyfriend pouts, walking two sauntering fingers up Arthit’s leg, cheekily inching towards his inner thigh. Of course, he’s promptly swatted away.

“But -“

“Stop it. No more rewards until you’ve covered at least another two chapters.”

Kongpob’s pout morphs into a simpering smile.

“Is that a promise?” 


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