Mahito Shirtless Novels & Stories

“You wa‌t‌ched⁠ t⁠he whole thin‌g. Y‌ou tell⁠ me,​ did​ I miss a s‍po‌t?‌” I f​or‍ce‌d myself t​o turn and fac‍e him, a‌ m‍i‍sta⁠ke I realiz⁠e‍⁠d‌ th⁠e mome⁠nt I di‍d. ‌H‍e’d‍ pu⁠‍lle‍d on a⁠ pair‍ of gray sweatpants,‌ lo‌w on hi‌s hips, loose and effo‍‍r‌tless. He⁠ ha‍dn'⁠t bot‍hered to clean up. The front⁠ of the fa‌b‍ric was dark a‌nd clinging to‍ him. He was shirtless,‍ his chest st⁠ill fl​ushed⁠ a deep, angry red from t‌‍he exertion⁠, hi‍s b⁠reathing sti⁠⁠l‌l‌ hea‌ vy.

Strong hands shot out and grabbed my waist, keeping me from falling, and Cassian raised an eyebrow at me when he saw the shirt in my hand. I gave him a sheepish smile and stepped backwards and — HOLY SHIT! How had I not noticed this before?! The man was shirtless! And not just shirtless. He was sweaty and breathing deeply. His hair was slicked away from his face, the ends curling slightly from the dampness, and his muscles seemed to be bulging more than normal. "Um...hey." My voice sounded hoarse and high-pitched at the same time, and I coughed, my ears hot with embarrassment. "I mean... Hi. Good morning. Um... I didn't see you there. I mean..."

Faith let out a gasp as Mateo pulled her closer to him. Her body flushed against his. She is wearing an old loose t-shirt with cotton shorts underneath it, while Mateo was dressed in a plain white shirt that fitted perfectly on his body with grey sweatpants. Both of them were dressed to sleep. Mateo’s hand clutched the fabric of her shirt from behind – tugging it along with him, while Faith had one of her hand on the nape of his neck while the other one was on his back – her fingers dug into his back.

A shirtless Saint. His hair is not styled, it's messy and fluffy as a few strands fall onto his forehead. The black loose jogger he is wearing hangs dangerously low around his waist as it shows the V-line molded with his defined abs. Old scars are plastered across his chest, a huge scar slashed across his chest, and a few bullet wounds here and there. I am eager to trace my fingers along those scars but I hold myself back. I'm not sure how long I stayed in my room but all I know is that it's dark outside and all the main lights are off. The only light that's bleeding through the windows and into the house is the bright moonlight.

He thinks about her, knowing that she is safe back at home, even if she is made at him. He never wants her to ever see anything like this. Leaning down, he picks up a shirt to go with the size too big athletic shorts that he found laying on the ground. Neither garmet matches but at least he is no longer naked. All the warriors that shifted to fight are looking for clothes to cover themselves. “Heath?”

I ask, looking down at the shirt and pants I’m wearing. “We don’t exactly have stores out here in the wilderness and even if we did, we’re not royals. We don’t have money to buy anything,” he says. I begin unbuttoning the shirt. I suddenly realize that Mara is naked from the waist up because I have her shirt, and now this cloth which binds her quite large bosom. “Oh, here,” I say, reaching up to pull the shirt off my head. The movement makes me catch my breath as pain shoots through my sides and across my chest.

Drake said quietly. Miguel paused, then turned his head toward him with a sly look. Without a word, he peeled the shirt off again, standing there shirtless. The morning sun casting soft shadows over the lean lines of his torso. "Is it?" Miguel asked, casually tossing the shirt aside.

She couldn't see the man who kept turning away from her coming in after her unless he intended to do it fully clothed. "Okay, but you have to strip down to your undies. No tricks," she said, calling his bluff. His jacket hit the floor and it was her turn to gulp. He undid one button and then another until his shirt was on the floor too. Aria inhaled sharply. She knew he was completely ripped under his tailored suits, but damn if seeing it wasn't something else. Aria was not a stranger to shirtless men. She had sparred with her fair share of them. Bart didn't sparr without a shirt though, so this was all new to her.

Mitchell said, "I met her. Just as you predicted, she loved Evanescent. I think she intends to gift it to that elder you mentioned… Yes, I told her I'd need your permission first." He stripped off his shirt and let it fall carelessly onto the floor. Sun-bronzed skin stretched over his lean muscles, and a few faint scars scored his sculpted back. They didn't mar him; instead, they lent a wild, untamed edge. Half-naked, he strode toward the bathroom, shedding his clothes along the way.

“An Alpha walking barefoot, and half naked?” “Well, I've never been one to give a damn about what people have to say.” “Whatever!” He rolled his eyes. The moonlight caught the sheen of sweat on his human form. He was wearing a thin singlet and ‘miraculously’ a crumpled shirt still clung to his arm. With a sigh, he peeled off the shirt.