Romans & histoires Male Sternum Tattoo

– He declared, letting go of my wrist, passing his thumb over his mouth, my eyes fixed on that man with a broad, defined chest, with a pecs designed as if he had been sculpted. On his neck he had a tattoo of a dragon that released a blue-green flame from its mouth.

Her completely naked body was now facing her man’s view. “What’s the matter, baby?” She eyed him carefully up and down and her gaze stopped on his muscular chest. She starred at that part for a few minutes. On his chest had appeared a new black tattoo in the shape of the letter ‘S’. It was surrounded by nine different greek characters.

The man probably heard me coming from the moment I left my tent. The water was dark and still around him. The moonlight caught the lines of his shoulders, the broad planes of his chest, the wet gleam of his collarbones above the waterline, the gleaming silver link around his neck, and the wolf pendant resting on his chest. My lips parted at the intricate, swirling black tattoo of a growling wolf on his left pec. My eyes trailed low. Lower. To the stacked packs on his stomach, and lower to the healthy, masculine V that ran from his waist and disappeared into the water. My mouth went dry at the thought that he was naked. Naturally, I started rambling.

His chest is bare. His chest. I've seen it before—glimpses, flashes. But not like this. Not up close, in the dim light, with no one else around. The tattoos are everywhere. Dark ink swirling over his pectorals, down his ribs, across his shoulders. Waves crashing against a rocky shore. A lighthouse standing tall against a storm. A compass rose on his left pec—right over his heart. Water still clings to his skin, beading on the lines of his muscles. His dark hair is loose, damp, falling past his shoulders.

But I always wondered what Jay would think of it. "I bet it is." I smiled. He liked it. Which meant he also liked my writing. That was a big deal for me. I realized that he was shirtless and my eyes fell on his chest. He had grown more muscular, his chest more defined, his shoulders more broad. I had always found the flat planes of his hard chest very hot. But what had my attention was the tattoo on his left pec, right over his heart. It was the Serch Bythol symbol.

"They're not rogues. The symbol on his left arm—it's from a northern pack." I followed his gaze and noticed a tattoo—a black 'S' with a small crescent moon in the center. "Do they have pack symbols tattooed?" I whispered, and the man was still engrossed in conversation with his companions, not looking directly at us, but his attention seemed focused on me. "Yes, but on my left chest." I shifted my gaze to him. "What does it look like?" My fear from moments before had dissipated, perhaps because having him beside me eased my trembling heart.

Completely naked and with a weak smile on his whitish lips, he pulls the last spl of the plastic sweater and exposes all the rest of the tattooed skin above the bandage on his waist. The drawings engraved on your shapely arms begin in the pectoral muscles with a fusion of messages in different languages, spirals and lines, flowing in a connection with musical notes, stars and rays through your right shoulder to your wrist. On the other side, the head of an open-mouthed Chinese dragon has its syrup outlined on its left shoulder. Among the pigmentation of drawings, there is a skin band with shy black curls separating them.

Shit! Maybe deciding to pull his shirt was a bad idea. My eyes landed on his tattoo and I was finally able to see what was drawn there. “Wow.” I mouthed, my fingers slowly grazing on his tattoo. I couldn't help but touch it. It was a picture of a snarling wolf head, at one side of his chest. Just above his right nipple. I never knew Malcolm had sexy and inviting nipples. “Noelle focus.” I scolded myself, removing my hand from his chest.

It flared under his skin, rhythmic and unnatural, like a dying star trapped inside his veins. Vivian gasped, pulling back slightly. "Stan... your neck. What is that?" Stan closed his eyes, taking a long, ragged breath that rattled in his chest. When he opened them again, the violet hue flared slightly brighter before fading back beneath his skin. "It is time I tell you who—and what—you brought into your home," he said, his voice dropping into a raspy confession. He unbuttoned the top collar of his heavy indigo tunic, revealing a jagged, dark mark resting right over his sternum. It looked like a brand—a starburst of black, crystalline lines spreading outward toward his shoulders.

"Y—You actually possess such immense, divine power!" My lips curl into a mocking smirk as the completely shredded remains of my shirt fall away from my upper body, revealing my heavily muscled, bare physique to the entire room. A dark, terrifyingly majestic tattoo of a black dragon with glowing red eyes is coiled tightly across my chest, its primal design incredibly vivid and lifelike against my skin.