I Was Made To Love You, Darling (слэш)

The handprint is stark against Steve’s pale, almost translucent skin. It’s big, too, all five fingerprints wrapping around the entirety of his thin upper arm. Steve twists in front of the grimy mirror, holding his arm out at an awkward angle. He bites down on his lower lip and lifts a hand to carefully brush his long fingers over the black smudges.
His skin is buzzing, but it’s not from the marks. Nothing has happened with them since he woke up, there are no new colors dancing across his skin where they were, and he doesn’t expect there to be. Steve doesn’t know if he ever expects there to be, which is part of why he’s buzzing. Too much nervous energy coursing through his veins. He may have finally reached eighteen, but that doesn’t guarantee that he’ll ever actually find his soulmate. Or that he even has one.