Usagi wondered, not for the first time, why her boyfriend wouldn't just let her stay the night. That wasn't entirely truthful—she knew why. Not naive, nor by any account entirely innocent, she had more than a vague sense of what generally happened between men and women who spent their evenings together. It was not something she was afraid of. Her aforementioned boyfriend on the other hand, was avoiding the subject like the plague.
It didn't help that the two of them had not so very long ago shared many passionate, half-clothed kisses on the floor of his apartment. It helped less that this was a frequent occurrence.
Sometimes, he would seem annoyed when he would tell her that she should go home. She recognized those as days when he had exams or presentations on the day following. She didn't push the subject on these nights, since he genuinely needed sleep.
The rest of the time, he would moan incoherently, his entire body shaking visibly as if he were being denied something as basic a need as water. He would pull away from her, ever so slightly, placing his forehead against hers and rasp out that they should stop. Her reply on those nights was to wrap her arms around his neck and whisper in his ear that she needed this as badly as he did and beg him not to stop.
This was one of those nights.
So it was that she was cursing her luck and her age simultaneously as she approached her door step. Why was he trying to postpone this particular activity? It was inevitable, really. They'd come very, very close on numerous occasions, tonight included. And she wanted it. Usagi wondered, not for the first time, why her boyfriend wouldn't just let her stay the night.