Novel & Cerita Chicano Back Tattoo Lettering

She trails her index finger along the tattoo on my torso, it's barely a touch, she's just ghosting her finger along the ink but it still makes my skin feel fuzzy, my stomach tightens and my dick twitches. I swallow. "You didn't think so?" I grasp her hand then I play with her fingers so she doesn't think anything of it. "I thought it was one of those good-bad movies." She's now tracing the ink on my fingers, "What do these letters stand for?" She examines the letters on each finger. A, M, L, R. Staring down at the letters, I smile, "Aron, Mariana, Luna and Regina. Mi familia." I drag my eyes back to her face.

He patted my shoulder with his tattooed hand. I stared at it, his body was so beautiful, it was like a display of art. Various inks and pictures went up his arms, to his neck and his back. It was truly beautiful, there was a wolf, a symbol, a date, a quote, a picture of some guy and my favorite tattoo was on the back of his hand. It was, 'Fuck you. It's my life' written in italic letters. "Someday you will have something meaningful enough kid." He wound his arm around my neck and practically dragged me to the back of the shop where most of the piercings were done. "Now, wait here while I get the equipments ready."

When did they care about me ever? So I decided to get a butterfly tattoo with the letter Z on the center in neon pink and green. I had it drawn over the scar on my arm. When the artist was done, I was actually glad I did it. “Why the letter Z?” Marie asked. I laughed. “Maybe that’s my prerequisite for your little game. I’ll hook up with a guy… only if his name starts with a Z.” Marie glared at me. “Are you freaking kidding me? You had to choose the most difficult letter in the alphabet?”

"How many tattoos do I have in total?" "Four." And he goes on to explain what they are. “The Crow tattoo on the back of your left shoulder, the tribal tattoo on your spine, the lotus flower on the back of your neck, and my mark, right here.” He gently caressed his mark on my left collarbone, and immediately, I felt the pull and comfort towards him. I nodded. “Okay, you're Ryan, okay.” He glared at me and I laughed. “Say my name again.” “Ryan.” I scoffed.

The sight of his fear makes my heart ache for him. "I can't, I took an oath." He stands off the bed and lifts his shirt over his head, muscles in his arms flexing as he does so. His smooth toned body greets me and I suck in a breath, my eyes roaming his body. He points at a section on his skin, ignoring my burning stare. A tattoo is inked across his chest. "Do you see this?" He asks me quietly and I nod, having studied it plenty of times before. "It translates to brother in Spanish. I got this when I joined the gang years ago. Every gang member has to get it, Amil brands us all. Once we have it, we're brothers. You don't leave your brothers."

“If I did, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.” He grins, leans in and kisses my lips and when he pulls away, his hand, fondle my left breast, making my legs go weak. “Most of my tattoos I used to cover up my scar so they don’t have any meaning, while others like the write up have a few meanings.” “What does this say, then?” I ask, my hand dropping to the part under his chest having a foreign language. “It’s not in English,” I add. He chuckles, plucking at my nipple in his hand. “It’s not.” he agrees, and eyes then drop to where my hand is, “It says whatever it takes. It’s in Latin, and that’s why you can’t read it.”

, he lifts his t-shirt, facing my back. It's a long line vertically under his neck. What's so huge? "You gotta pull it from the right", the receptionist says. I pass her a smile and slowly pull the wrap, revealing those works inked on his back. Damn! His back inked is the hottest thing I have ever seen. And the words— I place my fingertips on the letters, tracing them slowly as I read each one of them. ——You drew stars around my scars—— My lips widen as I brush my thumb onto them.

Her hair was in a sophisticated hairdo with a crystal hairclip in it. Just when I thought she couldn’t get any hotter, she turned to the fridge, giving me full display of her back. The dress has a low, bare back, curving at the base of her structure, but that’s not what made me groan in pleasure. In full view, my mate mark was displayed on her back. It was like a replica of Nikolas, and I was amazed when I noticed an inscription at the base of the tattoo. I wasn’t sure what language it was in. I had never seen it before, making me wonder if I had the same thing on my back.

I inwardly murmured to myself. Ethan had a tattoo on his back. Right across his shoulders were medium- sized horizontal wings. They looked a little Goth and almost Greco-Roman in their black inked starkness. I loved the quote underneath the wings. No more yielding but a dream. I saw it in the shower when he turned to get the soap.

I realized how much I missed him, more than I had admitted to myself. “You really love tattoos,” I remarked as he casually removed his shirt. His back was covered in intricate black and gray tattoos—half a skull, half the face of a crying woman. His shoulders and arms were adorned with shading, letters, and flowers that had intertwined over time. I noticed the names of my parents, mine, and his pack etched on a cross. My dad would have had a fit if I had even a single tattoo.