Author's Note

Summary: Starlight can't sleep, so she vents her frustrations on paper.

Warnings: Female masturbation

The Letter

With one last loop of her quill, she signed the last cursive letter of her name with a dreamy, contemplative sigh. Yours truly, Starlight Glimmer.

She dipped the feather back into the inkwell on her desk and glance down at what she had written, reading her words her clouded vision cleared and cooled into harsh judgment. Sweet Celestia! She picked up one of her psychology books and slammed it over the letter, heat rising to her cheeks and the tip of her ears—what if Twilight read it? What if Spike walked into her room? Or worse, what if Trixie got her hooves on it! She would never live it down!

Calm down, it’s the middle of the night, no one’s coming. She thought and took deep, calming breaths. She lifted the book tenderly, hoping that she hadn’t smeared the words in her haste. Thankfully, it remained unscathed, her words of desire that she had penned down on the parchment before they drove her mad. They had propelled her out of bed after nearly two hours of tossing and turning in her mattress and finding no trace of relief.

The words spilled out of her like a waterfall. She missed him terribly, she wanted him close, she could only think of him and feel the acute absence of his weight in her bed. Writing it down had helped, she at least felt a little calmer now that her feelings had been addressed instead of being pushed back down—and yet…

Going back to bed felt pointless. Delving in the space that housed her sexual affection for him only intensified how lonely she was. Normally he would be there on her left side of the bed, body sprawled out in exhaustion, a restless sleeper and a vocal one to boot, whereas she could fall asleep quite easily. Inevitably she would be woken by his rustling, or he would return to her, nuzzling her side until she took him in her forelegs and started tracing his neck and spine, whatever gesture she could think of to lull him to sleep. It wasn’t just the nightly routine that she missed, but his presence in general. The warmth of his body, the soft, tickling beard on her chest, and his scent.

The hint of sandalwood which was in his shampoo, the gel he used to style his goatee sometimes, and her favorite: his body in general. The sweat, the drape of his cape, the smell of books new and old, wood, and the ink stains in his hoof from writing and the scent of fresh parchment. Somehow over the years, those smells had twisted in her mind to something familiar, awakening, calming, arousing, all at the same time. Oh dear, she sank back in the wooden chair and closed her eyes. She could almost smell it all, especially when he sweated above her, his hot pants falling across her body when he was on top of her—for the love of Celestia, pull yourself together!

Nostrils flaring she turn off the lamp on her desk and dove for her bed, pulling the covers over herself with a melancholic sigh. Then she rolled to the middle of the mattress, much too lonely and restless to return to her side. If he were there he’d have her in his embrace, sharing his pillow space with her.

Lifting her head she crawled up the bed until she touched the neatly made side which she’s left undisturbed since his departure. Slowly, she reclined into his pillow face first, hoping the scent of him would soothe her restless spirit. Ah, there he was. Ink, paper, that familiar sweat…Sunburst.

“I miss you…” Starlight mumbled.

What a night; it was as if his absence was turning her into a poet of the sappiest kind, gushing out lyrical nonsense, and dripping with praising pet names as he did. Ignoring the sarcastic side of her brain she brought her hooves around his pillow, curling it under her body, while her head remained on top. Closing her eyes she imagined him, his thudding heartbeat, the bony edges of his body pressing her if she laid at the wrong angle, and the lithe muscles against her.

‘Can’t sleep, my star?’ The little name he only used when they laid together. His hoof would smooth into her hair, stroking down her scalp along her braid. Keeping her close until she was asleep in his chest, more than happy to let her use him as a pillow.

As soon as he returned she could have that. No more restless nights of aimless reading, of staring at the lines of the ceiling, or long ineffective walks. Celestia knows she would not let that stallion go once he was in her grasp again. Surely whatever work he needed to do he could do it here, Twilight had enough books to occupy him. If only he were here so she could get lost in his skin, taste the sweat that dripped from his pores, and kiss him until he was hoarse from screaming her name.

The thoughts brought a dull ache between her legs, just as they had while writing. She shifted uncomfortably in the bed, the cold night starting to heat up. Squirming in discomfort, she relented and tossed her blanket to the side of the bed. Nudity didn’t bring much relief, and she sank into his pillow again, clutching it to her bare chest.

Everything ache. She could only think about his mouth on her skin, his smirks, his teasing, and his affectionate glances. Curling against his pillow she let out a little whine, using the friction of the cotton she imagined he was holding her—but it wasn’t enough, no, it wasn’t where she really longed for his touch.

It had been a while since she had touched herself in such a way, there hadn’t been any need, but he had been gone for so long that her desire had reached its breaking point, and all her senses begged her to do something about it. Shifting and curling while still hugging his pillow she let it slide down between her thighs and gave a tiny little press into the fabric. Now that was what she was waiting for.

Delicious, soft resistance pressed between the lips of her sex as she reached down, letting a bundled of covered feathers be the tiny bulge she rode on. It was much like their courtship: desperate to touch the other, desperate for closeness, but afraid of the consequences of indulging in such an act. Instead, they improvised, she on his lap, him holding her hips, a sheet between them, grinding and grinding into one another’s covered sex. Maintaining chastity with a thin layer of cotton, while still finding release in the other's body and moans.

“Sunburst…” she moaned softly as she turned her face into the sheets. It was easy to recall, his nervous smile, his shy inexperienced touches, unable to decide where to touch or to just leave her be. “Touch me…”

Now he was bolder, of course. If they were grinding like this it was a game—who could last the longest, who could stand to be stimulated the most, who would be the first to break and beg to join their bodies. Never before had she understood the painful aching of emptiness until she’d known what it was like to be deliciously filled by him.

“I want you inside of me…” She whimpered into the mattress, her voice breaking as she rolled her hips into his pillow. Unable to withstand any further she reached a hoof beneath her stomach and the pillow, replacing the soaking fabric with her hoof. Tomorrow, she’d be embarrassed how wet she was from rolling in his pillow, but not now, now it was a blessing that she could slide her hoof inside herself with ease and imagine it was his cock teasing her.

As soon as she pushed it inside she whimpered, this was what she was longing for—she could picture it all now. It wasn’t her hoof it was him. He was going to be protective once he knew how lonely she was, and smother her with his entire body so not a single inch of her skin would be lonely, his weight pressing her stomach into the mattress. He’d prop her hips on his pillow, pushing it under her, then mount her and push himself into her dripping spread legs, making sure his star didn’t know the meaning of the word emptiness. And her hoof wasn’t enough.

No, his cock was longer, thicker, compared to her slight hoof. It was impossible to reach the deepest parts of herself with it and it nearly made her weep with frustration and loneliness, she had to bit the covers for a moment. Soothingly, she rubbed her sex with her hoof and imagined him, his voice—his tenderness, how he’d be home soon, and chuckle in her ear when he was on top of her as she described this moment.

‘My star…my heart…poor thing, it’s okay, I’m here.’ That deep voice in her ear, his scent all over her, he was the only one who could force a smile out of her as no one else could. She didn’t have to be the perfect student, the responsible counselor, one of Equestria’s heroes, she was just Starlight. Just Starlight with her own needs, her shortcomings, and her limits. And he took it all in and found solutions—or at least a way to make her laugh about it.

Slowly, as if he were coaching her, she pressed her hoof further within, stretching herself and moaning with relief that at least she could mimic the feeling of his width. And that tiny realization sent her into a frenzy, pushing in and out as her hips rocked against the pillow—visioning him behind her, filling her wanting body. Heck, he didn’t even have to be inside her—he could just watch her. A brazen piece of her imagined him entering her room, seeing her spread out like this as he opened the door, and he would see just how the thought of him made her wet, desperate, and that he too could be fulfilled by those fantasies.

Soon he would be back to her. He’d mount her and go faster and faster, deeper and deeper. Then he’d understand how painful it was to leave her—he’d never be able to leave her again for so long, the way she’d milked his body would be his addiction.

She contemplated using her magic against her clit to increase the pleasure but she didn’t, imagining slapping his hoof away once he was back. No, she would say, she wanted to focus on how he felt in her. That sensation alone, it didn’t matter if she found release or not. She wanted it engraved in her mind, just what every millimeter did to her insides, just what every shudder of her hips did to his voice, just how deep and fast his thrust could go before it became painful—or if that was even possible anymore.

“Sunburst!” She called out and she quickly brought her free hoof to her mouth, biting down on it. ‘Don’t wake the castle…’ he’d teased, even though he knew exactly what he was doing to make her scream like that. Her entire body was shaking, shaking into her hoof and the pillow—her nostrils flaring as she took in the smell of the sheets, looking for his scent and wishing they hadn’t been washed.

Come back to me, come to me, come in me, come in me, come…her thoughts raced, unconscious desires floating around until she gasped—then whimpered loudly—biting down on her hoof to hold in her cries as her orgasm rippled through her legs in bucking convulsions. The memories of his own were in her mind: the groans, the curses, the slurred vowels of her name. The delicious heat of his body left her warm on the inside, leaving a piece of himself even when he left.

Slowly, she let her hoof go, ignoring the drool she had left on it. Regaining her breath she drew her sticky hoof from her center and wiped them against his pillow. It didn’t matter much now that she’d left a large wet spot on it—and a devious part of her giggled at the idea of him coming back and discovering it.

She yawned, then took her pillow, keeping his between her legs, and laid her head down with a sigh. Soon, he would get her letter. And then surely he would run to her. That was the most relaxing thought she had all night, and she finally went to sleep.