Shadow‘s Reach (Halloween Noir) - 15. Mirror, Mirror - Up Close and Personal

The staircase led them down, deeper into the dimly lit heart of the house. Jacques took the lead, his broad shoulders cutting a strong silhouette against the flickering light of the antique fixtures. Alex followed close behind, his gait still unfamiliar to him in his new, stronger body, his hands unconsciously brushing against the walls as if anchoring himself to the tangible. Marcus strolled casually behind them, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, his teeth flashing in a way that made Alex both uneasy and oddly fascinated, as though Marcus always knew far more than he let on—and enjoyed dangling that knowledge just out of reach. They reached the bottom, and Marcus gave an exaggerated sigh of relief—part performance for his own amusement, part habit of breaking silence. He paused, turning to the two as though they were actors backstage, awaiting direction.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said, his eyes gleaming with untold mischief. “This is where I must leave you. Duties call, secrets to tend to, annoying legal contracts to decipher at my laptop, you know the drill. But the two of you... what a shame to let such raw, untapped potential simmer. You’re heading to the gym, yes?”

Jacques nodded absently, his mind drifting to the training routine he should make them go through. Should they really bother? He kind of suspected it was more about giving Solomon a few private moments with Madame Marie than their own physical well-being.

“Good,” Marcus continued, leaning in, his mischievous and unsettling grin widening with every syllable, “then allow me to offer you a small piece of advice. Ahem. Take a hint from Madame Marie and Solomon. Use them as... role models. You know, get ‘physical’, find your ‘rhythm’.” His gaze swept between the two of them as he licked his lips, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “You two look like you could tear up that gym, so perhaps... let off some steam together while you’re at it.”

Alex’s cheeks burned crimson, the flush traveling all the way down to his newly broadened collarbones. He shifted, fumbling for words. “I—I...”

Closing the distance, Marcus leaned in to Alex and whispered in his ear, “If he’s too much of a gentleman, you can always order him to do it. He seems rather… receptive to that kind of thing.”

Jacques, ever the quick-witted one despite his state of emotional turbulence, arched a brow at Marcus. “Yes, thanks for the advice, Coach, very subtle. No pressure, right?”

Marcus gave an innocent shrug, though the devilish twinkle in his eye betrayed the plotting villain in his heart. “Subtlety is vastly overrated.” With an ominous wave of his hand, he turned to disappear down the adjacent hallway. Over his shoulder, his parting words rang out with a low chuckle: “Have fun, boys.”

And like that, he was gone.

Jacques broke the silence first, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Well,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “If that didn’t get us in the mood… That wasn’t awkward at all, right?”

Alex avoided his gaze, trying to focus on his feet instead of thoughts about Jacques that were not all that unappealing. “Does he always do that?”

Jacques laughed—a short, genuine bark of amusement that cut through the tension like a blade. “Marcus? Pretty much. But it’s usually worse.”

***

Silence settled between them as they continued their way down the hall leading to the gym. The weight of Marcus’s words lingered in the air, unspoken but undeniable. Jacques stole a glance at Alex, noting the way his face was set in lines of quiet discomfort, the way he held himself like an intruder in his own skin.

After a while, Jacques spoke. “Hey,” he started, his voice soft but firm. “Just so we’re clear—don’t let Marcus get to you. He’s... Marcus. He’ll poke at anything just to see if it moves.”

Alex nodded, managing a small smile. “I figured as much. Still, that was... um... direct.”

Jacques chuckled again, stuffing his one good hand into his pocket and stepping over the threshold into the changing room. For a moment, Jacques stood there in silence, taking it all in. He felt the memory of a world where this was familiar, where he had a complete body and the ability to lose himself in the meditative rhythm of push and pull, forgetting about the world. But now… He flexed his right hand into a fist, the conspicuous absence of his left tugging at him like a phantom.

Alex watched him, catching the shadow that flickered in Jacques’s expression, though he said nothing. Instead, Alex moved toward a locker, crossing his arms like he was trying to fold himself smaller. His voice was quieter when he spoke again.

“Do you think he’s right?” Alex asked, eyes fixed on the polished floor. “About us?”

Jacques hesitated, taken off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“You know, about… us being a... thing,” Alex mumbled, his face flushing again. “I mean—not that I’m saying we are, or should be, or—or anything, b-but, do you think…”

“Alex, stop.” Jacques stepped closer, his tone unexpectedly gentle. “How should we figure out ‘us’ or ‘us being a thing’, if we haven’t even figured out ourselves?” A tender smile appeared on his face and, with a wink, he added, “I mean—not that I’m saying we aren’t, or shouldn’t be, or—or anything.”

This, at least, brought a small, bashful smile to Alex’s lips.

***

The locker room echoed faintly with the soft clink of well crafted lockers being opened and closed, the air as clean and fresh as yesterday. The soft, indirect lighting hugged everything with alluring warmth, but the silence stretched, charged now with an entirely different kind of tension. Jacques could see it in Alex’s eyes—a battle of self-doubt and longing. The funny thing was, Jacques realized, he felt the same.

Jacques let out a sigh as he tugged at his T-shirt, the tightly stretched fabric sliding over muscles that had grown more defined and imposing since Alex’s magical transformation. Beneath, his skin shimmered faintly under the dim lighting, maybe a ghostly gleam hinting at the latent powers coursing through his veins. He tossed the shirt carelessly onto a bench, revealing the heavy contours of his body, the missing hand starkly noticeable in the absence of movement on one side. It made him acutely aware of his limitations as he reached to unfasten his belt, moving slower than Alex thought he would as he watched Jacques from the corner of his eyes.

Alex himself was much quieter as he fiddled absently with the hem of his shirt, void of Jacques’ easy confidence—or at least the appearance of it. His new, powerful physique was a contradiction to the fragile boy Jacques knew just yesterday. His broad shoulders filled out the fabric, the seams taut despite the loose cut of the borrowed attire. Alex was hesitant, his movements shy. He avoided looking toward the far end of the room where a large mirror loomed wall to wall above the sinks, reflecting their outlines in its surface.

“They’ll be taking a while,” Jacques muttered, breaking the tension. He gestured vaguely toward the meeting room above the gym where Madame Marie and Solomon—among other things—were surely discussing strategy or so.

“Yeah, well, I’m not surprised,” Alex replied, his tone flat as he tugged off his shirt and folded it neatly, like armor no longer needed but handled with reverence. He kept avoiding Jacques’ gaze as he leaned down to unlace his shoes. “They seem... invested in keeping their discipline.”

Jacques snorted, though the expression faltered. “Hard discipline and Madame Marie seem to go hand in hand.” He chuckled dryly but quickly fell silent, pawing absently through some freshly provided gym gear with his lived-in right hand.

Neither of them spoke for a few heartbeats, the muted sounds of their changing punctuated by intermittent zippers and shuffling shoes.

Finally, Jacques, unable to stand the heaviness between them, let out a long breath. “Listen, Alex...” He hesitated, his voice quieter this time, as though testing the waters. “About yesterday again. I’m—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that. After the training and what happened... your transformation…” The last word hung heavily, filled with the unfamiliar weight of its implications. Jacques dared to glance at him, his dark eyes seeking some sign of forgiveness.

Alex froze mid-motion, his gym shorts still dangling loosely from one hand. His whole posture tensed, as if holding back a storm. “You mean after I became... ‘this’?” His voice cracked slightly, and he gestured vaguely down at himself, his powerful body. His tone wasn’t bitter, not entirely, but tinged with something deeper—bewilderment, self-loathing, fear.

Jacques felt a pang of guilt and stepped closer, bare feet padding against the cold tile. “I didn’t leave because of you, Alex,” he said earnestly. “I—I needed time to think. Everything changed so fast. For you, for me, for both of us, really. I wasn’t trying to abandon you.” His gaze softened, imploring Alex to meet it. “You’ve been through so much already... and now...” He motioned to Alex’s radiant body with a helpless shrug of his single hand. “I’m just trying to get my head around this, get this right.”

Alex dropped his pants on the bench with a muffled thud, letting a dry chuckle escape him before shaking his head. “Getting it right...” He tilted his head toward Jacques without fully raising his eyes. “You realize I’m completely lost, right? I’m just some... magic power generator, a glowing battery pack. That’s all I am to them.” His last words came out like venom, though they weren’t intended for Jacques.

Neither man spoke for a moment, letting the quiet acknowledgement of shared insecurity settle between them. Jacques rubbed the back of his neck before glancing over at Alex again, this time focusing on his body language. His movements seemed all wrong—stiff, deliberate avoidance. Jacques frowned, Madame Marie’s earlier lesson fresh in mind.

“Alex,” Jacques began again, his voice lower, more conscious now. “Why do you avoid looking in the mirror?”

Alex’s head snapped up, startled by the observation. “What?” he asked sharply, his voice defensive. His hazel eyes darted to Jacques and then away again, as if realizing he’d been caught red-handed.

Jacques stepped closer, folding his arms across his chest. His missing hand’s absence made the posture imperfect, but his commanding presence made up for it. He motioned slightly toward the far mirror with a tilt of his head. “You haven’t looked in it once since we got here. That’s unnatural. You should be flexing, striking poses and grunt ‘Oh yeah, babe’. But every time you move, you’re angling yourself to avoid it. Why?”

Alex’s jaw tightened. He glanced back toward the mirror and the ghostly figure it promised, then back at Jacques, clearly debating whether to lie. Resignation won out, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Because,” he admitted finally, shrugging. “The person in the mirror isn’t me. It’s someone else entirely. Someone I don’t even recognize. That’s scary.”

Jacques studied him, the vulnerability laid bare on Alex’s handsome face. Even Zombie Guy Alex never looked so tormented. The small, fragile boy now stood tall, sculpted like some ancient warrior god. Yet beneath all that, Jacques could still see glimpses of the boy—the kindness in his eyes, the hesitance in his gestures.

“Come here,” Jacques said with a firm voice, stepping closer and offering Alex his hand. His tone was warm yet unwavering. Alex flinched but, after hesitating a second, he took it. Jacques nodded to him with encouragement and dragged him toward the sinks in front of the mirror.

***

“There, look at me,” Jacques said.

Alex hesitated for just a moment longer but finally lifted his gaze—not to his own reflection, but to Jacques’. The powerful silhouette of the slightly taller man beside him filled the mirror, his missing hand a glaring absence against the unyielding strength of the rest of him. Alex couldn’t help but notice the way Jacques’ chest rose and fell, tension winding through his broad shoulders despite his composed facade. There was something indescribably human in Jacques’ eyes, something cracks-in-the-armour vulnerable that Alex had not noticed before in him.

Jacques caught Alex’s diverted gaze, their eyes meeting in the mirror. When they locked, something in him shifted—an unspoken permission, a need to spill what simmered below the surface. He let out a breath, dragging his gaze back to his own reflection as if scrutinizing the stranger staring back at him.

“I don’t even know who that is,” Jacques said finally, low and raw, his voice filling the quiet space. “The guy in the mirror. The strong, confident guy everyone always sees. That’s supposed to be me, isn’t it? But it’s not. Not really.”

He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve done what people told me, Alex. Obedient Jacques. Wear that, Jacques. Strong Jacques. Coach knows best, just do it, Jacques. Reliable Jacques,” he spat the words like they tasted bitter, his usually steady voice faltering. “I never questioned it. Hell, I didn’t even think to question it. I just... I just became what they wanted me to be. And now?” His good hand gestured towards the reflection, as though casting blame on the face staring back. “Now I don’t even know if there’s anything real left under there.”

Jacques paused, his throat working as he bit back emotions that didn’t quite fit his image. His gaze dropped for just a moment, only to rise again and settle steadily on Alex through the mirror. This time, the vulnerability in his eyes was laid bare, unguarded and real. “Maybe... maybe I’ve just been wearing someone else’s mask my whole life. And the worst part is? I don’t have the slightest clue who I really am underneath it. Now I know why—or at least I hope that was the reason—that curse was always there… but now it’s running haywire.”

He shook his head again, the barest of smiles tugging at his lips—a self-deprecating, rueful gesture. “So whatever you’re feeling, Alex... trust me, I get it. I get it more than you know.”

***

The mirror loomed above the sinks, reflecting every detail of the two men standing before it. Both in their naked glory, the cool air whispering over their skin, a stark contrast to the rising warmth between them. Jacques stood closer, just slightly behind Alex, his presence imposing yet steady—a physical pillar of support tethering Alex to the moment.

Alex’s eyes lingered on Jacques’ reflection, not his own, even as his fingers dug into the edge of the sink, knuckles tense with restrained emotion. Jacques’ gaze, however, shifted and was now locked on Alex’s reflection, dark and unwavering, like he could will Alex to see what he saw.

“You have heard Madame Marie’s words. How your own perception creates reality. Go on, look at yourself,” Jacques whispered.

“Please, look at yourself,” Jacques whispered again, his voice impossibly warm, pleading but insistent. His hand rested lightly on Alex’s shoulder, an anchor, before trailing down along his arm, the slow drag of his calloused palm leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Not me. You.”

At first, Alex faltered, the tension in his shoulders sharp enough to cut. His eyes flitted toward the mirror, hesitant, before locking reluctantly on the figure staring back. The man he saw—broad-shouldered, taut with muscle and strength, his chiseled torso seemingly carved from some celestial force—was a stranger, an impostor. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly.

Jacques stepped behind him, leaning in closer, his chest brushing faintly against Alex’s shoulder, his breathing deepening as he watched Alex’s reflection with an unreadable intensity. “Do you want to know what I see?” he murmured, his voice rich with an unshakable certainty. “That guy you’re looking at? The one right there? That’s you, Alex. That’s who you’ve always been.”

Alex’s lips parted as though to argue, his gaze darting toward Jacques’ eyes for support, but Jacques didn’t waver. He slid his arm down to Alex’s waist, his grip firm but tender as his fingertips brushed along the curve of Alex’s hip. His other hand—the one he didn’t have—moved down his other side, as though it longed to anchor Alex as well.

“Look! You think you’re weak?” Jacques’s voice dropped lower, gentler, but no less commanding. “You never were. You were drained. You were robbed of everything, every second of every day—your life, your strength, your energy, your sense of ‘you’.” His hand slid upward again, following the hard ridges of Alex’s abdomen. Alex shivered, his breath hitching audibly.

Jacques moved closer, and Alex felt the heat of him, the warmth of his skin against his back as Jacques slowly shifted fully behind him. Jacques’s tall reflection now almost hidden behind Alex’s slightly smaller body in the mirror, an image of unison, their forms flush in a way that sent a thrill down Alex’s spine.

“But even then,” Jacques continued, his voice tightening with fervor, “Even when you were at your weakest, Alex—you never gave in. Don’t you see? They drained and drained, but no matter how much they took from you, they couldn’t take all of it. You wouldn’t let them.” Jacques exhaled then, his warm breath trailing across Alex’s neck, making him visibly shudder. “That’s not weakness. That’s power.”

Alex’s heart pounded in his chest, his body working against the storm of emotions tugging at him. Jacques’s hand slid upward once more, over Alex’s chest now, pausing for just a moment above his racing heart. The skin-to-skin contact burned in a way Alex couldn’t explain, a current he hadn’t ever felt before. It wasn’t just the physical touch—it was the way Jacques believed every word he spoke, the way his voice infused each syllable with unshakable truth. Every touch, every physical sensation seemed to connect with Alex’s soul.

“And now, look,” Jacques murmured, his voice dropping to an intimate growl as his thumb ghosted over one of Alex’s nipples, tracing the edges with reverent care, “That strength isn’t buried anymore. It’s not locked away where they can steal it. It’s here now—unleashed, free. Not magically transformed, just restored to its natural state.” His grip tightened on Alex’s waist slightly, and Alex felt Jacques’s breath again, his inhale softer this time, as though savoring Alex’s scent. “This...” Jacques paused, his lips brushing just faintly against Alex’s shoulder now—the lightest of kisses that made Alex’s pulse race. “This is who you were always meant to be. The real you.”

Jacques’s lips lingered just long enough to draw another trembling shiver from Alex. Then he trailed even closer, his mouth hovering near the curve of Alex’s neck. His words were softer now, intimate in a way neither of them was entirely prepared for. “You’re strong. You’re powerful. And Alex...” His lips touched the barest point on the base of Alex’s neck, searing into him like a brand, his voice almost breaking. “You’re beautiful. Inside and out.”

A sharp breath escaped from Alex’s lips—a mixture of disbelief, emotion, and the growing heat spreading through him. His reflection stared back, this time with faint traces of something he hadn’t expected—acceptance. Or maybe it was just surrender to Jacques and the storm of sensations overtaking his senses.

Jacques’s touches grew bolder, sliding along Alex’s sides, tracing the definition of his hips as though marveling at every inch of him. His mouth pressed another soft kiss at the base of Alex’s neck, then another—a trail too gentle to be innocent. Alex’s breathing picked up pace, his lips parting slightly, betraying the heat pooling low inside him. He gripped the sink in front of him, arching his back, and felt Jacques’ growing heaviness pressed against him. Both of their eyes flicked downward, catching their mutual arousal in the mirror, the evidence plain and undeniable.

Jacques chuckled softly, his breath a teasing glide against Alex’s ear. “See? So big and powerful!” he murmured, sliding his hand lower, his mouth grazing once more below Alex’s earlobe. “Even your body knows it. That man in the mirror—the one staring back at you—that’s ‘you’, Alex. That’s who you’ve always been. Look!”

“Feel it, Alex. Let every sensation of your body connect to your emotions, your soul.”

Alex let out a faint, trembling sound—an exhale somewhere between a sigh and a moan. He gripped the edge of the sink harder, pushing back against Jacques. His tension wavered as Jacques enveloped him entirely, both physically and with the weight of his words. The mirror reflected their heat, their undeniable pull, their truths laid bare in each touch and breath.

***

As he felt the sensations flood his senses, Alex’s reluctance began to fade, replaced by a tentative curiosity. Still pushing back against Jacques, he reached out and touched his own reflection. His fingertips brushed against the cool glass, tracing his own features. After a while, he turned his gaze back to the real thing, exploring the new contours and lines of his body. His movements grew bolder, more assured, as a smile began to tug at the corners of his lips.

“Look at yourself,” Jacques murmured, his breath warm against Alex’s ear. “See how strong and handsome you are!”

Jacques himself began to explore every part of Alex’s body with a sensual, almost reverent touch. His fingers traced the lines of Alex’s shoulders, down his arms, and over the planes of his chest and abdomen.

Alex watched in the mirror again, his eyes wide with wonder and arousal. As Jacques explored, his eyes sparkled with awe, his breaths shallow and reverent as if he were touching something sacred.

Alex’s breath hitched as Jacques’s hand moved lower, caressing his hips. He shivered, a soft gasp escaping his lips, his body reacting instinctively to the tender, appreciative caress. Jacques’s fingers explored every contour with a careful, almost worshipful attention. Jacques’s touch grew more intimate, sliding over the firm curves of Alex’s buttocks. He cupped them gently, his fingers spreading and kneading to appreciate the fullness, the strength. He placed a soft kiss on them. Onward, he continued his journey down his legs. Jacques knelt down, gliding his hand smoothly over Alex’s thighs, feeling the taut muscles beneath the skin. He traced the contours of Alex’s calves, marveling at the strength and definition he found there. Alex shivered at the touch, his eyes flitting between their reflections and Jacques.

Continuing his exploration, Jacques moved lower still, his fingers grazing Alex’s ankles before gently lifting one foot, his touch firm yet tender as he examined the arch, the ball, and each toe with a careful, almost worshipful attention. Alex’s breathing grew heavier, a mix of curiosity and arousal evident in his gaze, each sensation making it cleared that this truly was his own body.

There was a poetry in the way Jacques handled him, each movement a sonnet of admiration. Alex shivered under the touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips.

“You are a masterpiece,” Jacques whispered, his voice reverent. “Every part of you,” he whispered as he slowly began to move back up, running over Alex’s calves once more, then his thighs. “I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you.”

Jacques stood, his hand traveling back up over Alex’s hips, then his abdomen and resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of Alex’s breathing.

He brushed Alex’s shoulders, traveling down the striated muscles of his triceps and powerful forearms. Each touch was deliberate, a silent communication of admiration and desire. He intertwined his finger with Alex’s and raised them to his chest. Pulling him into an embrace, Jacques lightly rested his raging hard-on between Alex’s glutes. Alex responded by pushing back again.

He lowered his head to Alex’s shoulder, the warmth of his breath caressing his skin as he leaned in closer. His lips brushed Alex’s ear, sending shivers down his spine. With a teasing glint in his eye, Jacques gently nuzzled his neck before he gave a playful nibble to his earlobe, his teeth grazing Alex softly, igniting a spark of electric anticipation that spread through his body.

Alex’s eyes fluttered closed briefly, then opened again to meet Jacques’s eyes in the mirror. His gaze was filled with a fervent ecstasy, a hormonal high that radiated through every fiber of his being. His lips curved into a small, confident smile. “So are you,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion and newfound assurance.

In that moment, they both saw more than just the physical changes. They felt an unspoken connection, a shared journey that had brought them closer in ways neither had anticipated, a bond that went beyond words. Jacques’s touch became gentler, more affectionate, his fingers tracing the lines of Alex’s jaw, his neck, his collarbone.

“Alex, I really want you, need to worship you, unite with you… not just an amazing body, but you.”

“Jacques, please, I’m here, ready, just… make love to me.”

The room was silent except for their breathing, the world outside forgotten as they stood together. Jacques placed another kiss on the back of Alex’s neck, a silent promise of devotion and admiration. Alex leaned into him, their bodies fitting together perfectly, their breaths synchronizing as if in a dance, two pieces of a puzzle finding their place.