Laser Quest Lust | NEON LIT

Laser Quest for Dave's birthday was either genius or disaster. Twenty-five-year-olds running around in the dark, shooting each other with plastic guns, pretending we weren't too old for this shit.

I was having the time of my life.

The girl on the enemy team was not making it easy. She was everywhere—darting between obstacles, picking off my teammates one by one, moving with the kind of athletic grace that suggested she actually trained for this.

She had dark skin, braids pulled back tight, and a competitive glint in her eyes that was borderline terrifying.

"Give up yet?" she called out, shooting me for the fourth time.

"Never."

"Stubborn. I like that." She disappeared into the smoke.

We lost. Badly. But the post-game drinks were compulsory.

"You're good," I said, finding her at the bar. "Military?"

"Netball." She grinned. "And a lot of older brothers. I'm Naomi."

"Jack."

"Jack. You're shit at laser quest."

"I'm aware."

"But you've got spirit." She sipped her drink—something blue and toxic-looking. "Fancy a rematch? One on one. No teams."

"Now?"

"They do late-night sessions. Less kids. More intensity." She looked me over. "Unless you're scared."

"I'm not scared."

"Prove it."

The late-night session was different—darker, moodier, fewer rules. Just me and Naomi in the maze, hunting each other.

She found me first. Of course she did.

"Got you," she said, pressing me against the wall, gun to my chest.

"You win."

"I know." But she didn't move. "What's my prize?"

"What do you want?"

She kissed me. Hard, competitive, like everything was a game she intended to win.

"This," she breathed. "Been thinking about it since you refused to give up."

"In the maze?"

"No one can see us. Dark corners everywhere." She grabbed my hand. "Come on."

She led me deeper into the maze, to a corner I hadn't found during the game. Dead end, no cameras, just darkness and the distant sound of electronic music.

"Here," she said, pushing me against the wall. "Quiet. Quick. Think you can manage?"

"Watch me."

She dropped to her knees, worked my jeans open with efficient hands. Her mouth was warm and confident, her technique suggesting this wasn't her first maze adventure.

"Fuck—Naomi—"

"Shh. Someone might hear."

She sucked me until I was trembling, then stood and shimmied out of her leggings. She wasn't wearing knickers.

"Always come prepared," she explained with a grin.

She turned, braced against the wall. I pushed in from behind, both of us groaning at the feeling.

"Move—come on—"

The adrenaline from the game mixed with the thrill of getting caught. Every sound seemed amplified, every shadow potentially someone discovering us.

"Harder—I can take it—"

I grabbed her hips, gave her everything. She came with a muffled cry, biting her arm to stay quiet.

"Don't stop—keep going—"

I did, chasing my own release. She came again—faster this time—and I followed, pulling out to finish on her lower back.

We cleaned up with the tissues she'd brought—"Told you, prepared"—and emerged from the maze like nothing had happened.

"Rematch next week?" she asked at the exit.

"You'll just beat me again."

"Probably." She grinned. "But the post-game activities might be worth it."

She gave me her number, disappeared into the night.

I walked home with a laser quest score I'd never live down and a phone number I'd definitely use.

Best game I ever lost.