Stella Lefty x Tinashe

Author: Stellnashe Shipper

The after-party was still thumping downstairs, but the hotel suite was quiet except for the low hum of the city and the soft click of the door locking behind them.

Stella kicked off her boots, country-star smile still lingering even though the cameras were gone. Tinashe watched her from the edge of the bed, already out of her stage jacket, black silk camisole clinging to her curves.

“You keep looking at me like that,” Tinashe said, voice low and amused, “and I’m gonna assume you meant every word of that song.”

Stella’s cheeks went pink. “Boston wasn’t about you.”

“No,” Tinashe agreed, standing and closing the space between them. “But the way you stared at me during soundcheck was.”

She didn’t give Stella time to answer. One hand slid into Stella’s hair, the other settled on her waist, and she kissed her—slow at first, tasting the leftover champagne and the nervous energy still buzzing under Stella’s skin. Stella made a soft, surprised sound that melted into a moan when Tinashe’s tongue brushed hers.

They tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Stella’s flannel came off first, then the thin white tank underneath. Tinashe’s mouth found the freckles scattered across her collarbone, then lower, tongue circling one nipple until Stella’s back arched.

“Fuck—” Stella breathed, fingers tightening in Tinashe’s braids.

Tinashe smiled against her skin and kept going, peeling Stella’s jeans down her legs, kissing the insides of her thighs until Stella was trembling. When she finally dragged her tongue through the slick heat between Stella’s legs, Stella’s hips jerked and a broken little country-girl curse left her mouth.

Tinashe took her time. Slow, deliberate strokes, two fingers sliding in deep while her tongue worked tight circles over Stella’s clit. She didn’t stop until Stella came with a sharp gasp, thighs clamped around her head, whole body shaking.

They switched after that. Stella, still flushed and shaky, pushed Tinashe onto her back and returned the favor with eager, messy enthusiasm—kissing down her stomach, burying her face between Tinashe’s thighs like she’d been thinking about it all night. Tinashe’s hand stayed tangled in Stella’s hair the whole time, guiding her, praising her in that low, velvet voice until she came hard against Stella’s mouth.

Later they lay tangled in the sheets, sweaty and quiet. Stella traced idle patterns on Tinashe’s hip.

“So,” she said, voice rough, “was that a one-time thing or…?”

Tinashe turned her head and kissed the corner of Stella’s mouth.

“Write another song about it and find out.”