Drogon Tattoo Novels & Stories

My eyes drifted down to his torso, and my breath caught. God must have enlisted his finest artist to carve Killian Knight. The tattoo, a haunting web of thorned vines, began at his right hip and sprawled across his torso. Its black branches reached his heart, with another branch peeking over his left shoulder and spreading down his arm to his elbow. The intricate design, hidden beneath his clothes, was now fully exposed.

That night, Henry finally let go of all restraint. The room lay in shadow, and he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Riverton flickering like stars beyond the glass. “Claire…” “Yes?” “I want to get another tattoo.” “Where?” He gripped my hand and pressed it to his lower back, mirroring the spot that corresponded to mine. There, with each of his breaths, a faint outline of a feral totem emerged. “I want to tattoo your image. I want to carve you into my bones forever.”

The icy blast would’ve made anyone else recoil, but Dante stood there, solid and unmoving, like he was made of stone. His back was a canvas of ink, just like his front. The artwork was nothing short of breathtaking. Spanning across his entire back was a massive, detailed tattoo—an angel, powerful and divine, standing within the ruins of an ancient temple. The wings spread wide across his shoulder blades, reaching toward his arms, while crumbling pillars surrounded the figure in dramatic grayscale contrast. It wasn’t just a tattoo; it was a story, a testament, a work of devotion etched forever into his flesh. It was absolutely beautiful—mesmerizing, even.

He had a very large erection. “I must tell you a secret about dragon mating,” Drago said, and I nodded, not taking my eyes off his erection, fascinated by how hard it was. “We too mark our mates, in a similar way to how a wolf would, but we impregnate our venom. It is painful, though not that painful; however, it leaves a mark of my scales. It is a symbol of belonging. I hope that doesn't bother you...” “I have a crescent moon on my neck; I belong to a wolf. That's the least of it,” I said to Drago and smiled. “You will have my mark always; that's much more pleasing.”

I tried to compose myself before looking in his direction again. I looked back at him to already being watched by me intensely. His eyes were the most beautiful contrast I have ever seen, ocean blue with green specks at the surface. I shamelessly drooled over him, until I realized I was too late. I lowered my gaze to his chest only to witness a tattoo, a tattoo of a dragon forging from the fire; on the other side just where the heart resides, written Selene in bold capital letters. I looked away, feeling a pang jealousy from a complete stranger, all the wolves were bowing in front of us, not before us, but...

The kind of room that had no purpose and therefore no softness. Draco was on the far side of it. I registered him in pieces, the way you registered things when your body was already reacting before your mind had fully caught up. The shirt on the floor somewhere behind him. The shirtless back turned toward me broad and defined and covered, across the left shoulder and down the spine, with a tattoo that was not decorative. A dragon, rendered in black ink so detailed and so large that for a moment I simply looked at it the scales, the wingspan, the specific quality of something that had been inked not as art but as record. A testimony. This happened to me and I survived it and here is the mark

Damn this man. "You need more than that, okay where was I?," He cleared his throat, like he was about to unravel some big secret. She leaned in closer. Her eyes shimmering, okay, what was with women and gossip? "The tattoo in his nape represents the dragon club. It's a really dangerous club involving violence." She seemed interested, which was weird, because he never thought that Nicole Hart would want to get herself involved in all his family shit. He breathed in, stroking his hands.

It was a black dragon with wings, surrounded by black roses. “You have a weird tattoo,” I commented out of the blue. He lowered his gaze to his forearm. “All members of the Anderson Mafia have this kind of tattoo. It serves as our identification.” I fell silent, staring at it intently. For some unknown reason, that symbol is familiar to me. I tried to dig into my memory to recall where I’d seen that tattoo before, but it only caused my head to ache, prompting me to rub my temples. Cole quickly attended to me.

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?”

I sat on the bed in the room and waited for him, he threw his shirt off exposing his well build abs a clear sign of countless years of hitting the gym, he had a dragon tattoo on his back and on his chest and stomach were faces of different women I could only conclude that he was keeping tabs of the women he had fucked on his body as tattoos and if I let him live past today he might probably add mine to it. I scoffed as I unzipped my bag to see if everything was intact, I smiled to myself as I imagined my next move, Alonzo was pretty smart and at this point I thought using a gun might just be a waste of time. I didn’t bother coming with one because it could have been detected at the door.