My brain stuttered.
I forced my eyes back to the cables and fumbled with a connection.
“Not that one,” Coach said. “The one to the left.”
He leaned down further to point, and the movement made his shorts ride up higher.
Fuck.
I grabbed the correct cable and tried to focus, but my eyes kept drifting back up. I couldn't help it. The angle was impossible to ignore.
“That's it,” Coach said. “Now trace it back to see where it's supposed to plug in.”
I followed the cable with my hand, reaching up toward the back of the desk, and the movement made me shift my position slightly. Coach moved too, adjusting to get a better view of what I was doing, and suddenly his leg was closer. Close enough that his calf brushed against my shoulder.
“Sorry,” he muttered, but he didn't move away.
“It's fine.” My voice came out rougher than intended.
I kept working, trying to ignore the heat of his body so close to mine, trying to ignore the view I couldn't escape. But with every movement, every shift in position, I was hyperaware of him.
“The blue one,” Coach said. “Middle monitor. Check if it's seated properly.”
I reached for it, and the angle forced me to stretch. My shoulder pressed against his leg more firmly now, and I felt him tense.
From this position, his cock was definitely swelling now. I watched it twitch slightly, responding to something, and felt my own cock start to harden in response.
This was insane. This was my coach. I was literally lying under his desk staring at his half-hard cock while pretending to fix cables.
“Got it?” Coach asked, and his voice sounded strained.
“Yeah. Almost.” I fumbled with the connection, my hands suddenly clumsy.
Coach shifted again, and this time when he moved, his inner thigh pressed against my shoulder. The contact was firmer now,deliberate maybe, and I felt the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shorts.
I could smell him from here—sweat and musk and something distinctly masculine. The scent made my head spin, made my cock throb in my gym shorts.
“That one next,” Coach said, pointing to another cable near the back.
I reached for it, stretching, and my shoulder slid along his inner thigh.
“Almost there,” I said, voice rough.
“Take your time.” Coach's voice was carefully controlled, but I heard the strain underneath.
I plugged in the cable, but instead of moving away, I stayed where I was. Stayed in position with my shoulder pressed against his inner thigh and his half-hard cock inches from my face.
“There's one more,” Coach said. “Far left corner.”
I reached for it, stretching across the space under the desk, and the movement pressed my shoulder more firmly against his thigh. I felt the muscle tense beneath my touch, felt the heat radiating off his skin.
When I looked up, his cock was even harder now. Thick and flushed, the head dark with blood, a bead of precome forming at the slit.
My own cock throbbed in my shorts, fully hard now, pressing painfully against the fabric.
“That's it,” Coach said, and his voice was wrecked. “Just like that.”
I didn't know if he was talking about the cable anymore.
