Dragon Tattoo For Men Novels & Stories

In the ring, both men were already standing in their respective corners. Alexandro wore black boxing shorts, no shirt. His muscular body looked perfect under the spotlights. His muscles were defined, not as big as Damien's, but more proportional. And on his body, tattoos. I had never seen him without a shirt under such clear lighting before. There was a dragon tattoo on his right arm, twisting from shoulder to elbow. There were tribal line tattoos on his left chest, and on his back, behind the shadow of the lights, I could see a large wing-shaped tattoo. Damien across from him. His body was bigger, bulkier, more threatening. The tattoos on his arms almost covered his entire skin, intricate,

This isn’t the safest place so that’s one of the reasons Ashley wants to move out. “Catch him!” A raspy voice jerked her. She turned to see a well-built man, an intimidating yet the handsome face that she ever came across in her life, and a dragon tattoo covered his left hand, she could see those from his folded sleeves and she thought there will be more under his shirt. She couldn’t get another look at the man as he faced the other side. Her heart just stopped to beat, when he tugged his gun on his pants. He had that most furious aura around him. Before she could get another one look at him, he walked to the jaguar waiting for him. Two men are already sitting inside the car and waiting to h

So did my brain. Zoey. Look away. Now! But did I? Of course not. “Oh my God…” I whispered under my breath as his shirt dropped, revealing a sculpted back and muscles that looked like they'd been carved by some vengeful Greek god. A bold dragon tattoo curled along his spine. What the hell? Was this man part of the mafia? A cartel? A walking sex crime? And why did his tattoo look somewhat familiar? I bit my lip as I watched him, mesmerized. He unhooked his belt, his hands moving with sinful precision.

As they entered the final courtyard, three figures rushed toward Adrian, but they were swiftly subdued by the Draco Force and collapsed to the ground. The seventh-grade men knelt before Adrian, trembling uncontrollably, unable to move or speak. "It appears to be you three," Adrian remarked, lifting the constraints on them. "What brings you to our establishment?" inquired the leader. The man’s upper body was exposed, revealing a black dragon tattoo adorning his back. Unlike the vibrant tattoos on Thalia, this one appeared crude and cheap.

My eyes follow the line of his sculpted abdomen and the faint happy trail that leads into his pants. The tattoo is on his rib cage. It's stretched and coils around his sides, demanding recognition. “It is.” he says “It's a dragon.” He takes slow but sure steps towards me, I feel my skin crawl with need. This is my mate, I want to say to myself, this beautiful man is mine…. But he's not. He should have been mine. Now I can only reach out a grasp for the shadow of what should have been mine. “Do you miss me as much as I miss you?”

The most appalling part was that there was a massive tattoo etched onto his chest. It was of a sturdily built monkey with its fangs bared and claws brandished. “Hanuman. The people of Thailand believe in the God of Strength, Hanuman.” Juan immediately realized that Thailand’s mana talisman tattoos always had a strong meaning, and the Hanuman tattoo symbolized power. Juan had never believed in the so-called mana talisman tattoos. Even when Waltier brought in the most well-known monk of Thailand to etch the love locker tattoo for him and Mona, Juan was of the opinion that it was an odd superstition.

“Don’t you have training to do?” “It’s not nearly as fun as watching you.” I countered, pouting just a bit. My eyes found the tattoo that started at his shoulder and snaked down his back. A scaled dragon, full of razor-sharp teeth and eyes glistening with intelligence. Its tail was curled around his waist, and ended in a tuft of dangerous points. Atlas’s tattoo seemed much brighter now; definitely brighter than the faded blue it had been in the past. His dragon, it looked as though it were made from ice.

It was the ink. A dragon, winding up from his chest, the tail curling along his ribs, the head climbing over his collarbone and stretching up the length of his left arm, almost entirely sleeved in intricate black and gray tattoo work. Scales, smoke, fire—details that felt as much like armor as art. This wasn't some impulsive drunken mistake. This was deliberate, meaningful. A story etched upon his skin. His throat, too, was fully covered in inked. And then—

My hand slips into his boxer shorts and I gasp loudly. He's hard. Rock hard. So hard that he jerks when my palm wraps around him. I take out his cock and my mouth waters at the sight as he springs free. My eyes pop open. He has an image of a dragon tattooed along his long, thick length. I've never noticed it before. He jerks under my gaze, and the tattooed dragon seems to flick its tongue at me. It's the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I look up at him, waiting for his next command.

Black ruffled expensively styled hair, showing hints of a curl if it was left to grow, over tanned skin, and ice grey eyes that almost appear colourless—like a soulless animal searching over his prey for the last scraps to pick. He is all squared, chiselled perfection, with a clean-shaven face, hints of dark stubble below the surface. A black ink tattoo of a dragon curling up one side of his neck, under a white button down, with a leather jacket moulded and sculpted to a very fit and toned body. Hints of more dark ink peeking over one hand under his sleeve, and I wonder how far his markings go, tempted to see that body with less covering.