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Supernaturals have soulmarks, everyone knew that, but it was ignorant to think that supernaturals only fell in love with supernaturals. It wasn’t necessarily rare for humans to have marks, but not common either. Supernatural kids all anxiously await the full moon after their fifth birthday, but human kids let the full moon pass without much anticipation. 

Stiles’ mother had made him stay up that night in his underwear as she searched him with a flashlight, intent to see if he was supernatural like his father. The inherent problem here was that Stiles was then and always will be covered head to toe in moles, freckles, and birthmarks. 

It was like finding a needle in a pile of needles. If soulmarks were anything like the stories, usually glowing or bright red, then maybe she would’ve found something. How was she supposed to separate one blob from the others? 

Stiles always liked putting little images to the blobs on his skin like kids do with clouds. He had one that looked like an umbrella, two that looked like clouds. That was probably just lazy thinking if he was honest. His favorite was a small blob on his left pectoral that looked like a little flame. 

One massive benefit of Stiles’ complexion was the modeling career he now had. Maybe he wasn’t a supernatural like his father, but he was supernatural bait. Anyone could imagine their matching mark on his skin, and while it made things awkward and scary in his personal life it made his career boom. He usually did solo shots, but his best friend Derek Hale had approached him on behalf of his uncle’s magazine company with an offer too good to pass up. 

A special edition shoot with none other than Peter Hale.

Stiles swooned at the thought. Peter Hale was the proverbial womanizer, but no one actually cared when he was hot as hell and a gentleman. The werewolf was known throughout the industry for sleeping with his models and leaving them all more than happy. No scandals around him and no scorned lovers, he was perfect for a night of wonderful passion with no strings attached. Stiles was almost as excited for the night after the shoot as he was for the large check he’d receive once the issue went out. 

“Mr.Stilinski?” Derek’s quiet, mousy assistant Denise spooked Stiles out of his thoughts.

“Yes, Denise, it is I. The dashing prince you dream of every night!” Stiles cheered, gently caressing her cheek. 

“Stiles. Just because I’m small and quiet doesn’t mean I won’t break your fingers.” She glared. 

Stiles’s head dropped back with the weight of his full bodied laughter. 

“If you’re done pissing around I have a spread to shoot.” An angry photographer sniffed as she passed. 

“That’s my cue, darling!” 

On his way to the strategically lit room Stiles was grabbed by a makeup artist, who immediately started looking at Stiles’ left pec. 

Stiles was just about to ask when he was going to make with the magic and artificially add a soulmark when the makeup artist nodded and pushed him out the door with a big smile. 

His freckles and birthmarks must have been ambiguous enough for the shoot. 

Stiles took one look at Peter Hale and his chest immediately felt hot.. The man was gorgeous, more so in person than in any picture or video Stiles had seen. His hair artfully styled, his back muscles defined in a way that sent heat to Stiles’ cheeks, and with an ass perky enough to give a stronger man a heart attack. 

The next moment felt like it moved in slow motion. Peter turned to face him, turning on his left foot, the muscles tensing and releasing making a wave up his body. Stiles was struck momentarily dumb by the sight of Peter’s cock, momentarily dumb enough to miss the fact that the man’s chest was glowing and his eyes were red. 

When he did look up at the man’s face he was greeted with a sharp smile full fangs and delight. 

“You must be Stiles.” Peter practically purred as he strode forward to meet him. 

“You’re Peter Hale. Why is your soulmark glowing?” Stiles asked, his chest unbearably hot and his brain foggy with a sudden rush of something he couldn’t place. 

“I just found my soulmate.” Peter was smiling at him softer now. 

“Oh damn. I was hoping to hook up after this.” The word vomit fell from his lips before Stiles could stop it. 

Peter’s laugh was musical and somehow made Stiles smile too. 

Peter touched his glowing soul mark and then slowly reached forward and touched Stiles’ chest. 

The moment his fingers touched Stiles’ skin a lighting bolt of heat and emotion and a multitude of other sensations Stiles had never felt before. 

“Your chest is glowing too sweetheart.”