Small Religious Tattoos For Men Novels & Stories

May glanced at the tattoo peeking out from Stone's shirt collar before continuing her question, "Are you getting a new tattoo?" "Not me," Stone replied as gently as possible. "You are." May immediately shook her head and stepped back. "W-what? I.. I...don't want to." "I'm sorry, May, but this is non-negotiable. All my men have special tattoos on their bodies, and as my wife, you need to have one too." May's eyebrows furrowed in the middle. "What special tattoo are you talking about?" "Show her, Jake," Stone instructed Jacob.

He looked to be in his thirties, well built, and had minimal tattoo work done. "Hi, I'm Karen. What are you thinking about getting done today?" I tried so hard to focus and listen to him but damn if my mind didn't go back to the naked brothers in my bed. I wonder if they are still there and waiting for my return. Anticipation swam through my body as I grinned. I was thankful that the guy just wanted a small piece done; a paw print and his dog's name written in cursive across the paw. Easy and adorable. So I got to work so I could go back to my apartment and hopefully to the brothers.

Oh, God I need to stop. I take steady breaths to try to hide my crazy thoughts. I lean a little to the right in the seat and settle back, turned slightly so I can see him without it appearing so obvious. He has three tattooed crosses on the side of his throat and a full arm sleeve of beautiful artwork. Nick never mentioned Rack being an overly religious man but the crosses say differently. Again, he's as close to perfect as I can picture a man. I can't help wondering if there are more tats where I can't see. My body heats and I'm uncomfortably warm. I take my last bite of apple and chew slowly.

“See. Not all of them are sad. I’ve got two of those.” “Two of the same scripture?” He nods. “What does it say?” “You wanna do some Bible study?” I pause, jaw dropping. “You read the Bible?” “No.” Right. I’m no Christian, but the man before me doesn’t seem like one either. “What does this tattoo say?” I ask again, kneading around his scapulas. He shuts his eyes, seemingly enjoying it. “Which one?” “The one that’s not written in English.” “Something about sex… being beautiful…”

Pаrt оf mе ріtіеѕ all the mасhо guуѕ оut thеrе thаt dоn’t have thе сарасіtу or opportunity tо open up. Yes, I’m a mаn. I’vе a сосk аnd tattoos. I lіkе tо сuѕѕ аnd lіft wеіghtѕ. I’m ѕtubbоrn аnd wіllful and jealous sometimes, but I’m still human.

His outfit was completed with sneakers that matched the colour of his jeans. I could see the ink that covered his right arm. It was from his wrist leading up to the length of his arm and disappearing under the sleeve of his shirt. I could make out some of the images. I saw a rose with a name scribbled on the stem, Jesus Christ with his hands clasped, and some teardrops flowing from his eyes. I never thought about tattoos being sexy, but looking at his, I got an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

Russian's POV A man in his late forties stepped into the basement, his bald head gleaming under the dim light. A tattoo of a fierce scorpion snaked from his neck to his scalp, marking him as someone not to be trifled with. His body was a canvas of ink, displaying various tattoos that told stories of battles fought and won. He dressed sharply, with a few buttons of his shirt undone, exuding an air of relaxed authority. He walked with a noticeable limp, leaning on a sturdy walking stick that seemed to amplify the aura of danger surrounding him.

“I’m here for a tattoo.” He leaned back, arms folding across his broad chest. The motion made the fabric of his shirt strain. “You? A tattoo?” He laughed, low and cruel. “Let me guess. Tiny heart on your wrist? Or maybe a quote about ‘strength’ in some flowery script so everyone knows how deep you are.” I pulled out my phone and showed him the design. “Lower back. Crescent moon with vines. I have the reference.”

My gaze drops back down his torso, and that's when I notice the tattoos. Five aligned stars on the side of his torso, near his ribs—the largest closest to the center, the others decreasing toward his back. They look like marks of conquest, as if each represents something only he knows. And on his right arm, a thin, precise line, slightly above the elbow, minimalist and geometric, like a discreet reminder that even a man like him has secrets etched into his skin. Holy shit. He's not just attractive — he's dangerous. This guy is pure testosterone.

Underneath the dove was a Bible verse: Romans 3:23. "Oh yea! Meant to ask earlier, but you got a tattoo? Yer only sixteen, how the hell do you have a tattoo?" He asked curiously. "Haha, oh this ol' thing?" He looked down at his dove. "I got this when I was fourteen with my mom, 'cause I got straight A's that year. The law in Pennsylvania has changed since, but at the time, one could get a tattoo at fourteen, so long as a parent consents and is present. She got one at the same time on her shoulder. Hers says 2nd Corinthians 5:17.