Killmonger Shirtless Novels & Stories

ARRETT Xavier standing there shirtless shouldn’t be a big deal because we’ve all seen him without a shirt a thousand times. But right now with the context of what we’re about to do, it feels different. Nobody moves for what feels like a full minute. Then Nash stands up and pulls off his own shirt like he’s ripping off a band-aid. “Fuck it. We’re doing this.” Cole is still standing by the pool table looking like he’s reconsidering every life choice that led to this moment. “How does this even work? Do we just all—”

"You like what you see huh, slave." She heard him say, but her eys were still captivated with these craft ness in front of her. "Now Look up slave, and stop staring. Is quite obvious you like what you see" Aiden said, a mischievous smile appearing on his face. It was so obvious his mate...NO! Where had that thought come from, his slave, liked what she saw. She felt affected by his "no shirt on exposure". He had recently removed his henley shirt off, which he had worn in the questioning room, and it had been stained with blood, so he needed to wash off and erase the trace of his guards blood from his body.

And the evening promised to be very interesting, if not a bit of a chore. As if to emphasize the mountain they collectively faced, Khyle looked exceptionally well put together tonight. Like he'd put his all into it. No detail spared before battle. To Kensei's trained eye, his crisp white long-sleeve v-neck and slick black vest, both of which looked suspiciously fresh off the rack, were a clean contrast to the battered dime-store talisman chain resting in the space between his collarbone.

But in workout gear, it’s a game of where’s skin. He’s got this incredible realistic grayscale full sleeve piece on his right arm of a mountainscape of a wolf pup sitting on a lake looking at the rippled reflection of a full-grown wolf. His legs are grayscale realistic mythology scenes featuring, you guessed it, wolves. His left sleeve is different, still grayscale, but it’s a Nightmare Before Christmas sleeve. And his back dude has a full-color Japanese Godzilla piece. And lastly, his chest piece is this grayscale twisted grove of branches that comes together to look like a guitar with a raven on the perched wings spread wide on the top.

Cold, silent, strong and literally nothing could give away that he cared about anything. He had a walk in closet that was filled with dress pants, suit jackets and shirts. Most of which were black. There was also a dresser and I opened up the drawers to finally find what I was looking for. In one drawer there were neatly folded plain black shirts and the one under it was filled with plain white shirts. Marek probably used them as undershirts considering I had never seen him, even in his downtime, without a collar and cuffs. Pulling out of the black ones, I slipped off my shirt and pulled this on. Sure enough, it came almost to my knees and it fell off one of my shoulders. Still, it was perfe

All four men are shirtless, and it’s really, really hot. I stretch my hands to pick a chicken wing. It's really tasty. Yum yum. But it's still hot. I fan myself. Sweat is already rolling down from my forehead. This is so embarrassing. Why am I so nervous? They are just four dudes. Okay, FOUR SINFULLY hot dudes! Still, no one's touching you. Put yourself together, Maya. I wiggle the collar of my shirt to get some air on my body. I should get rid of this shirt I'm wearing afterall I have a tiny top underneath. But it's going to look weird undressing in front of them.

I’m not kidding. Then I zoomed in on another picture and paused. His shirt looked… wrong? Like, off. I looked up and— My brain short-circuited. He was shirtless. Standing there in front of everyone, abs glistening like they’d been painted on, tattoos crawling across his chest and arm — a massive bird spreading its wings like it could fly off his skin. I forgot to breathe. And then people started screaming. Phones came up, girls pushed forward, and I was right there with them.

"We're running out of time. The longer we wait, the stronger the curse gets." "This is—I can't just—" He pulled his shirt off. Oh. Oh no. He was built like he spent every day fighting bears. Broad shoulders. Defined chest. Abs that should be illegal. See? my wolf said smugly. Death wish. Totally worth it. "Stop staring," Nero said. "I'm not staring." "You're staring." "You took your shirt off in front of me. That's on you." He almost smiled. Then he turned around, giving me privacy.

Forgetting the fact I had argued to be straight. He returned with a bundle, black mesh shorts that looked too small, sheer enough to show everything underneath, paired with a matching harness that crisscrossed the chest like restraints. “No shirt, no underwear. Put it on.” He said, stretching them towards me. The material whispered against my fingers as I took it. My skin flushed hotter; this was a pet attire, meant to display.

It's obvious the kid was playing around. "Here, water," I said tossing each one of them a bottle. They instantly gulped mouthfuls before putting down the now empty bottle and wiping their sweat. The room was fully air-conditioned but moving around so much must have caused them to sweat a lot that they started stripping off their soaked shirts before I knew it. I really don't mind seeing half-naked guys, not as much as they wanted to show off. I think Clark's got the best build among the four of them, maybe because he often plays the bass without a shirt. He's tall and lean. Not much tattoos either.