Middle Neck Tattoos Novels & Stories

“The chauffeur has a big crowd tattoo on his neck. Just then, the phone in my hand beeped

It was my name! My cheeks flushed red as my toes curled. That tattoo wasn't new. Then my eyes dropped to the others. It felt like his skin was a story I wasn't allowed to read. It started at his throat, black ink. Sharp, spiked lines that dragged down the column of his neck, split over his collarbone, and bloomed. The tattoo. It wasn't flowers or tribal...it was sigils, interlocking. Quite ancient like someone carved a spell into him with a blade instead of a needle.

I couldn't give any attention to it earlier with all the things running in my head. At my nod, a chuckle left him. The tattoo was round in shape with lots of suns wrapped in with tiny fiery snakes. Some designs were engraved around them that I couldn't decipher. But the weird combination of sun and snakes didn't catch my attention. The foreign alphabets written in the center in reddish ink did. "What does it say?" I asked, tracing the alphabets. Silence. Not getting any answer, when I looked up, breath caught in my throat. Those dark icy blue eyes were set on me. The intensity in them made my heart beat faster.

I watched as he left, leaving me covered in blood and sobbing. There was something on his neck. I try to hone in on it and I squint my closed eyes even harder as I try to make clarity of it. It was a tattoo. He has a tattoo of a spider on his left side behind his ear. It was red and black like the spiders that eat their mates.

A few more hours passed and finally, he was done, letting me relax my sore neck muscles from sitting straight for a long time. "It's done" my hand went to rub my front neck slightly before I let my hand fall on my collarbone. Neck a little tense from the bowing position. He holds a mirror in front of me and I turn my body to the side, looking at the new tattoo on my skin and I smile in contentment. "So pretty" I gape at the tattoo with admiration before my eyes gaze up to look at Vincenzo only to find him looking- okay no, staring hard at it, and if stare could kill, my skin would be burned by his stare.

His white shirt stretched over broad shoulders, his loosened tie hinting at a man who was always one step away from unleashing the beast beneath the businessman aura he exuded. One thing that caught my eye, even from the distance, was the tattoo that wound its way along the side of his neck. It flashed as he flexed, the taut muscles beneath shifting like the coils of a serpent. The ink seemed alive, dark against his skin, trailing down into the collar of his shirt, disappearing where I couldn’t follow. But what truly held my attention was the one that stretched down his arm.

To his sharp jawline, the way it tensed slightly as he spoke. And then— I saw it. Just at the base of his neck, partially hidden beneath the collar of his shirt, was a tattoo. My breath hitched slightly. It wasn’t something obnoxious or out of place—it was subtle, elegant. A fine-lined design, woven with careful detail. I didn’t even realize I was leaning in until Amelia’s voice barely registered— “Audrey? Are you listening?” I hummed absentmindedly, my eyes tracing the inked lines against his skin.

As my eyes follow his neck I find our mark sitting there like the most beautiful tattoo with its simplicity. The triple moon sits on our neck, the outlines clean and crisp. Inside the full moon sits two paw darkened paw prints. Three stars connected by thin lines rest above the full moon and waning crescent. Tracing the image I enjoy watching Damon shiver while I whisper, "it's beautiful."

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.

He stopped midway through the sentence. Almost hesitant. His eyes shifted downward briefly. Toward her left hand. "I like the tattoo." His finger pointed lightly in its direction. A small butterfly design nestled between her thumb and index finger. "It looks really neat." Mary glanced at it. Then back at him. "Does it mean anything?" he asked. A smile appeared on her face. A real one. "Yes." "Yes It does." Mary raised her hand slightly so he could see it better. "It's a butterfly with an M shape worked into the design."