Romans & histoires Male Sternum Tattoo

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 irritatingly mutter but he just presses his lips tightly to me. "You're not that talkative before" he mutters "Let me show you my tattoo" he whisper. I stop. So he's serious about getting undress first before I able to see his tattoo? "Eyes down here honey," he sexily utter "Here's my tattoo" I slowly look down and I saw him pointed the upper part of his waist. And there I saw his tattoo, a small crown with a written letter under it- Cosa Il Sovrano. The 'L' in the Cosa Il Sovrano was replaced by a knife. The font style is beautiful and it matches the font size.

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.

When we’d gotten back, Justin had gotten a tattoo of a barn owl on his left bicep, and he’d had them weave in the letter S on its wing. Leaning in closer, I slide the sleeve of his t-shirt up so I can see it, making him laugh around his forkful of casserole. Every time I see it, it makes my heart skip a beat. The muscled bicep certainly doesn’t hurt. I trace my finger along the S and feel his body still next to mine.

He was ripped and it was clearly seen this time as he wore white sand. There were numerous tattoos on his body despite the flying dove. One on his left arm which was a circular design, written in Sanskrit. The other one was visible when he took off the sando to replace it with another one, it was on his upper back that ran down towards his mid-back, an ancient sword. Revealing his front was his buffed chest and sizzling abs, that looked hotter than the global warming. On his right chest was another one, numerous bullets were scattered as one tattoo.

"But he needs more than moss and cloth now." I shifted back—clumsily, painfully—and crawled to Stellan's other side. "Who are you? How do you know him?" The old man's eyes met mine, and I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold. "I don't know him. But I know his markings." He touched one of the tattoos on Stellan's chest. "These are North Star symbols. He's their Alpha." "Alpha?" I stared at Stellan's unconscious face. The stranger who couldn't remember his own name was an Alpha?

He pushed my shoulders back to look at my face then I nodded with pursed lip in incertitude. He took off his shirt and lied on the tattoo chair. Cartel came over and adjusted the chair for him to lie flat. "Where do you want it?" he asked. Jason pointed just above his pelvic, around the side of his abdomen. Cartel wiped the area with Alcohol, then adjusted the light to that area and stenciled the design on Jason's skin. He flashed a mirror at it and asked Jason if he liked it. Jason confirmed give him a thumbs up with nod of approval.

I had always imagined how romantic it was going to be, but right now, it hurts more than it pleases me. He had tattoos on his chest, arms, and hand. The tattoo on his chest had words I couldn't read because it was way too tiny; A lion on his arm with words I still couldn't read because they weren't English; and a rose on his arm with his mother's name tattooed in it.

Why the fuck are these men mouthwatering? One...two...three...shit, that's eight abs, defined V-line, the word "BEAST" printed on his left chest, and his entire left arm is covered in ink. On the left side of his neck is "Suck my D" printed there. He's muscular and dominant. His muscles are just as big as the veins on his dick—a little curvy to the right with the cap dark pink...and I can see the seed hole. He's mute. Why? He knows I'm staring at him. I'm such a slut, fuck! "What...what are you doing here?"

I know we’ve had sex several times already, yet I still feel a deep ravenous need for him. Rising from the stool, I wrap my arms around his waist and place kisses on his back. His stomach clenches under my hands as I run them down his textured abs. “Tell me about your tattoos,” I whisper in his ear. He looks at me from the corner of his eyes, then pulls me in front of him, places my hand over his left pec, and moves it down his tight stomach. The tattoo is a large, red, and black dragon. The dragon’s head starts at his shoulder, and the tail ends at his bellybutton. The wings stretch over his right pec, and his claws extend over his ribcage.