She couldn't sleep.

Sunset Shimmer lay in bed, awake, contemplating this past night's events. Thinking of the way her friends had decided, finally, in their moment of greatest need, to lean upon her for support, and being able to provide that support for the first time in her life, still brought a tear of joy to her eye.

But there was something else.

Power had welled up within her, overwhelming power, which they used as a single unit to destroy the dark magic of the Sirens and render them powerless. A purification of sorts, much like what had happened with Sunset herself not all that long ago. The use of that power alone wasn't the problem, however. It was the fact that it hadn't gone away. She could still feel it coursing through her veins, ready to well up to the surface at any moment. It was her magic, long lost since coming to Equestria, she could feel it inside. She didn't have anything like a Unicorn horn to channel it through, but she could most definitely feel it. It was slightly intoxicating.

And also slightly worrying.

Sunset knew, remembered even, her addiction to power. She felt now similar feelings to those that led to her hubris and eventual downfall at the hands of the elements. She remembered the ego-filling lust, both sexual and destructive, that permeated her mind in that period. She had harnessed the powers of a Succubus locked in Tartarus, no easy feat, but she'd rather not recall that dark period of her life. She was being given the chance to begin again. She was going to grab hold of this chance with both hands, and never let go.

All these thoughts, rapid-fire through her mind, plagued her desire to sleep with questions. Questions without answers. Why had joining with her friends re-awakened old powers best left forgotten? Would they manifest the same as before? How far down does the rabbit hole go? What would happen to her?

None of these would soothe the insistent, pulsing burn of her womanhood. That was the most worrying element. Sunset recalled the un-slakeable lust that came with the use of powers borne of sexual demons, prowling on students every night for a daily fix of orgasms, if only so she wouldn't masturbate through her classes. She felt echoes of that desire now, pulsing wetness that soaked her panties and insistently reminded her of her own body's wants.

Needs.

With a bit of dramatic flair, Sunset tossed the sheets off from her bed, having grown too hot and sweaty in her arousal for them to serve much purpose any longer. This applied double to her clothing, a stuffy pajama set. She slipped out of the constricting garments quickly, her body seeming to only become more aroused in anticipation of sating her lusts.

Right, down to business then. Sunset wasted no time in plunging three fingers into her sopping gash, the lubrication making such a task trivial. This made her certain it was not a normal reaction, this had to be a supernatural lust to produce this much fluid. She brought her other hand up to one of her small breasts, tweaking a nipple to wring more pleasure out of her body. It had the desired effect, sending her moaning into the pillows. She lived alone, so there was no worry of arousing suspicion, but it felt good to be safe sometimes.

Fingers worked their magic on her snatch, making use of many long years of persistent sexual frustration relief techniques to make her body sing and radiate pleasure. There was an obscene *SQUELCH* at every thrust, further dipping Sunset's mind in to a lustful haze. Her nose, even while human, picked up the overpowering and musky scent of a succubus' arousal. If there was any doubt left in her mind, it was crushed by that fact. The smell was unmistakable, to an extent. It didn't have the same... demonic feel to it. Most definitely the same level of lust, but maybe not of precisely the same sort.

Regardless, it made Sunset heady with further arousal, and she came quickly in a sticky mess all over her legs and sheets, body convulsing in pleasure not felt for months.

...and it was over. She was left panting and entirely sated. Maybe it was possible? Possible, that she was overreacting to a one-time overflow of energy? Maybe it was nothing to worry about, and she was making misattributions through the lens of leftover depression.

Whatever the reason was, her mind was finally at peace, too tired from her sexual exertions to put up any more philosophical or existential arguments against worry. She drifted to sleep, not bothering to clean up.

Author's Note

Whoa, where did this come from?!

Yup, new story. Got inspired re-watching Rainbow Rocks the other day.