Medusa Tattoos For Men Novels & Stories

They’re all tall, cut, and have the same natural confidence that Justus does. They all have tattoos like Justus, too, the same intricate maze of lines and spirals that wind around the simple outlines of boats or trees or fish, draped over their right shoulder, arm, and torso like a shawl. The older the male, the further their tattoos stretch down their right sides to their thighs. Some have tattoos all the way down the tops of their right foot. Even the oldest males seem willing and able to shred an interloper to pieces. There are so many cocks nestled in such thick pelts.

The only word that came to mind was drool worthy. My eyes were drawn to the tattoos that littered his body. The ones that lined his chest and ribs caught my attention and I badly wanted to know what they were. My fingers twitched at my sides wanting to go over there and run them across the tattoos. He threw his shirt off to the side and turned fully towards me. I couldn't stop myself from asking. "What are your tattoos of?" "Oh these." He glanced down at the ones on his chest. "This one," He pointed to the symbol on his left peck. "is the Marine's symbol. And this says 'Move mountains or die trying'." He touched the quote that was on his ribs.

"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.

Behind the desk sat a massive man with a salt-and-pepper mustache and sunglasses. “Chance?” Matteo asked. “Alpha Matteo!” the man said, grinning. “Take a seat.” “We’ll stand,” Nickie said, his eyes locking on the man’s hand. On the back of the man’s hand was the tattoo. The serpent and the moon. “What’s the ink mean?” Nickie asked, his voice lethal. “It’s about renewal,” Chance said calmly. “The snake sheds its skin. The moon turns. Life through death. It’s the mark of the Velvet Syndicate.”

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...

As soon as it hit my taste buds with its bitterness, I spat it out. “Yeah, it’s very bitter, but it’s medicinal,” she stated, combing her black hair with her hand, revealing a tattoo. My heartbeat hiked as I recognized it—the tattoo of the black fangs. I was in the Demon Alpha’s territory. The moon goddess had decided to throw me into the deep blue sea.

When I don’t move for a good ten seconds, he shoved the thing in my face. Taking the paper, I turned it over, looking at the sketch. “It looks like Medusa,” Indra says. “Male version of Medusa,” the sketch was as Indra had said, the typical drawing of Medusa, but instead it was a male. His eyes are white, wide and panic stricken. His mouth is covered by a black duct tape, his head full of snakes. “What does this mean?” I asked Jordan. ‘This is Ludo’s tattoo,” he signed, informing us. ‘It’s on the inside of his thigh,’

I hand over his phone. He takes it and climbs out of the bed without a care that he's naked in broad daylight. His round ass and muscles flake when he walks to the window to answer the phone. A sudden heat pools in my aching core by looking at his naked glory. He's perfect, carves out of the ancient Greek scriptures. I plop on my elbow and take the time to admire his tattoos. Why these mafia men always have an obsession for inks? My eyes skims over the big lion's head covering most of his upper back and a serpent spitting fire. Something is written in Latin or Greek, I don't know as I'm only acquainted with English, my mother tongue.

“Your tattoos are beautiful.” I look at the tattoo of a skull surrounded by black flames. My whole right arm is decorated with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. My skin prickles with every caress of her fingers, but I don’t stop her from touching me. The tattoo sleeve has several tribal symbols, and there are a seal trident and a frogman tattoo on my shoulder. Each tattoo represents something in my life. The skull represents my status as an Assassin, and the cross is a play on my name. Her finger moves down the line of my intricate cross, then to the inside of my rib cage, where I have an inscription. Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum.

”He gave me a knowing wink, and heat rushed to my cheeks before I could stop it. “Back off, Vale," Lucien growled, stepping forward. That gave me just enough space to glance at the other shirtless men in front of me. Each of them had a moon crest tattooed just below their breast. Were all werewolf men this handsome? Vale gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like Lucien had just broken his heart. "We both know I’m strictly into the tall, broody men who look like they could ruin my life and furniture.“ He puckered his lips and blew Lucien a slow, exaggerated kiss.