Click! To Connect
It's just texting
Authors note: Hey there, and welcome to my very first chat story. I’ve always loved flirty, romantic, and emotional stories between two people who are scared to fall but fall anyway. This story follows Eli and Damien, two men who meet through a dating app and end up finding more than just temptation. I hope you enjoy every steamy, messy, soft, and bold moment. Feedback is always welcome. Thank you for reading.
Damien, 28, is a confident, charismatic nightclub manager who oozes charm and heat but secretly wants someone who sees past the act and chooses to stay.
Eli, 25, is a witty and emotionally guarded illustrator who masks his desire for real connection with playful comebacks and late-night flirting.
Eli is done with one-night flings that leave him emptier than before. Damien says he doesn’t do feelings, just fun. But what starts with shirtless selfies and midnight flirting slowly turns into confessions, missed calls, and a craving for more. One of them wants to run. The other wants to stay. But can two men afraid of love fall into it anyway?
Damien
Shirtless selfie? I’m bored. And you’re a good distraction.
Eli
You really know how to make a guy feel special. Fine. Here.
[Eli sent it before he could overthink. He hated how fast his pulse jumped every time Damien texted. It wasn’t the first time they’d flirted like this, and probably not the last. They had been chatting for a few weeks now, long enough for Eli to start overanalyzing things.]
Damien
Wow. Are you trying to kill me or what?
Eli
Maybe I’m just tired of being the one who always gets burnt.
[There it was, slipped into the conversation like a joke. But there was weight behind it. Eli didn’t usually say things like that. He didn’t like giving people the blueprint to hurt him.]
Damien
You? Burnt? Hard to imagine.
Eli
That’s because you don’t know me. Not really.
Damien
I know enough. I know you like playing with fire.
Eli
Maybe. Or maybe I just don’t like feeling cold anymore.
[The conversation slowed for a second. Eli stared at the screen, thumb hovering. He knew what this was. Late-night flirting, half-serious, half-dangerous. But every now and then, Damien said something that made it harder to keep pretending this was casual.]
Damien
Cold nights are for people who don’t know how to have fun.
Eli
And let me guess, you know how to🤔?
Damien
I do. And you make it so easy😏😏😏
Damien
Yes😏. But somehow you keep coming back for more. Why's that?
[Eli hesitated. He wasn’t sure why he kept coming back. Maybe it was the way Damien spoke like nothing mattered, like nothing could hurt him. Or maybe it was that deep, gnawing ache Eli had tried to ignore, the one that craved more than just pretty words and good timing. Not knowing how to respond to the question. He decided to ignore it and typed something else instead.]
Eli
We’ve been doing this for a while now. What are we even doing?
Damien
Talking. Laughing. Getting each other off.
Eli
And after that. What's next?
Damien
I don’t do feelings. You know that.
[The words stung more than Eli wanted to admit. He told himself he was fine with it. He wasn’t sure if that was still true.]
Damien
Why? Are you now catching feelings for me😏🤔?
[The lie sat heavy in Eli's chest.]
Damien
Look, I’m not trying to mess with you. I just like this. I like talking to you.
Eli
Then let’s do more than talk. Let's make it even more interesting
Damien
Ok I am listening. Interesting how?
[That was a risk. A big one. But Eli took it.]
Eli
Tomorrow night? You and me go out for drinks. I dare you 😈
[Damien read the message three times before answering. There was something in Damien’s late response that made Eli’s chest tighten. No more screens between them. No more teasing words hiding behind emojis. Them meeting up will finally make everything real and raw. Eli imagined the way Damien’s lips might curve when he smiled in person, the heat in his eyes, the slow brush of a hand that promised everything and nothing all at once.]
Damien
You’re in luck. Tomorrow’s my night off.
Damien
Make it eight. There’s a spot I like it's called Club Reverie. Clean cocktails, low lighting, and a couch in the back with your name on it😏.
Eli
Oh? You trying to seduce me already?
Damien
I don’t try, sweetheart. I just do.
Eli
Confident. I like that.
Damien
Good. Because I like what I see. And if your in-person game matches your texting game...
[Eli laughed under his breath, heat prickling down his spine.]
Eli
Are you ou planning to kiss me tomorrow, Damien?
Damien
I plan to do a lot more than that. But only if you ask nicely.
[Eli stared at the screen, his lips parting just slightly. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but nothing came. Part of him wanted to match the heat with something even bolder. However, the other part of him, which was softer and more guarded, didn’t trust himself not to give too much away. This wasn’t just flirting anymore. Not for him. So instead, he swallowed the ache in his throat and took the safer route.]
Damien
Sweet dreams, Eli. Try not to think about my hands.
Eli breathe
The city was humming outside his window, but Eli barely heard it. His bedroom looked like a fashion crime scene with shirts draped over the bed, pants tossed across the floor, and one tragically over-ironed button-down he’d already decided on made him look like someone’s tax consultant. He tugged on a black fitted tee instead, checked himself in the mirror, and frowned. He still didn’t look like the kind of guy someone like Damien flirted with so easily. But maybe that was the whole point.
Eli quickly picked up his phone and texted his bestfriend. He needed fashion advise and he knew the right person to ask.
Eli
What do you wear to a maybe-date with a man who sends shirtless selfies and talks like sin?
Janice
Tight jeans, no expectations, and maybe carry lip balm🤗🌸.
Eli
That’s not advice, that’s a warning.
Janice
Then let me say it plain: be hot, don’t overthink, and if he’s a dick, text me the safe word.
Janice
Great. Now put your phone down and go dress to kill😏😘
Eli
Haha okay ma'am. Your wish is my command🤗
He checked the time and it was only 7:00 PM. It was both too early to leave and too late to back out. The black fitTed tee clung nicely across his chest, but something about it felt safe, too casual, too forgettable. Eli exhaled through his nose and pulled it off, tossing it onto the heap of rejected outfits on the bed. His hands ran over the rack of shirts again. He wanted something that said he hadn’t tried too hard while still making Damien look twice. His fingers paused on a silky, grey button-down tucked near the back. He hadn’t worn it in over a year. It was just snug enough across the shoulders, with sleeves that hugged his arms when he rolled them up. Sexy, but not screaming for attention. He slipped it on. Unbuttoned two from the top. Then three. He looked at himself in the mirror. Better. Still him, but with a little more bite. He sprayed cologne, not too much, then ran his fingers through his hair for the fourth time, trying to tame it and pretending not to care that he was trying so hard. The nerves wouldn’t go away, but at least he looked like someone who had it together, even if his stomach was twisting in slow, electric knots.
His thumb hovered over Damien’s contact. He told himself it was just a confirmation. Nothing more. Not desperation. Definitely not. But the truth pressed heavier than he liked to admit. All day, Eli had been replaying every message between them, searching for signs that maybe he’d read too much into it. Damien was charming, flirtatious, impossible to pin down. What if this was just another game to pass the time? What if Eli showed up and found himself alone at the bar, some kind of punchline to a joke he didn’t get? The thought made his chest tighten. It wasn’t just nerves. It was the quiet fear that maybe, just maybe, he wanted this to matter more than he should. He tapped out the text before he could think better of it.
It sent before he could talk himself out of it. He put the phone down. Picked it back up. Put it down again.
Three dots appeared. Then stopped. Appeared again.
Damien
Yeah. We are still on.
Damien
Although I must admit. I almost thought about canceling.
Damien
Because I want to see what you look like when you’re nervous.
Eli bit his lip, half a smile tugging at the edge.
Damien
I know. And you like it
That was indeed the truth. Eli liked it way more than he was supposed to.
Damien
Anyway, I am leaving home soon. Wear something that makes you feel dangerous.
Eli
Too late. I already look like someone who overthinks everything and probably smells like vanilla.
Damien
Then I’ll just have to find out what vanilla tastes like.
Eli choked on his own breath.
He grabbed his jacket, told himself to breathe, and stepped out into the night, heart racing. Club Reverie was waiting. And so was Damien.
Eyes like trouble
Eli stood outside Club Reverie at 7:55 PM, nerves crawling up the back of his neck. The lights glowed soft and moody against the velvet rope, music pulsing through the walls like a second heartbeat. He pulled out his phone, pretended to scroll, then lowered it again.
He didn’t want to be the first one inside. But he also didn’t want to look like he’d been waiting too long.
Damien
Early. I’m impressed.
Eli
Well, you said sleek. I dressed the part. Figured I should arrive fashionably five minutes ahead of you.
Damien
I like that. Anyway I am two blocks away. I will be there soon.
Eli pocketed his phone and stepped inside. Cool air hit his face like a breath of seduction. Reverie was lush and dim, every surface dripping with quiet glamour. The bar gleamed at the center of it all, inviting and low-lit.
He took a stool, heart still climbing, and ordered something neat and golden just to keep his hands busy.
Every second stretched as he sat there. People drifted past, glittering in shadows, laughing into glasses, brushing up against one another in that casual way that made Eli feel invisible.
The vanilla cologne he had spritzed on with such certainty now clung to his skin like a question. He tugged at his collar, regretting the way the fabric hugged his chest. Too snug. Too deliberate. He reached for his drink, hoping for calm, but his hand trembled slightly against the glass.
His thumb hovered over Damien’s Contact. Just to check. Just to confirm he wasn't chickening out on him. It wasn’t about nerves. It wasn’t desperation. That’s what he told himself.
Then the music shifted. Or maybe the room did. The air felt different, like someone had opened a door to a storm.
He moved like gravity. Black shirt fitted across his chest, sleeves rolled to his forearms, collar loosened just enough to suggest trouble. Stubble darkened his jaw, and his gaze swept across the room like he owned the air in it. When his eyes found Eli, they held for a moment too long. Just enough to undo something inside him.
Eli sat up straighter, unable to hide the flicker in his chest.
Damien crossed the floor with slow, measured steps, each one making it harder to breathe. He didn’t rush. He didn’t need to. The room seemed to fold around him.
When he reached the bar, he didn’t sit. He just leaned close enough for Eli to catch the scent of spice and skin, warm and expensive, and something darker beneath it that made Eli forget the taste of his own drink.
Damien
That’s a good scent on you. Vanilla and nerves. Sounds like heaven
Eli almost laughed, but the sound caught in his throat. Instead, he turned slightly, pretending not to shiver at the way Damien’s voice slid across his skin like silk pulled too slowly.
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