Back to the Sky

Cover by Mina Carter

Page Contents

About Back to the Sky

Rather than spend his first post-college summer on the beach with a hot boy and a margarita, Zane Woodward goes home. While the lectures aimed at getting him to be more respectable like his lawyer father aren’t appreciated, Zane wants to be near his sister and his best friend—both of whom he’s convinced need him.

Enter Geordie Finsen: the Buddhist, blue-haired, stacked house-sitter-next-door. Geordie has a penchant for parties, older women who can pay the bills, and younger men who can wear him out—and he may or may not be able to control the weather.

While Geordie and his philosophies start to disentangle Zane from his own expectations and hang-ups, they bring the two closer and closer, and their chemistry flares into a hot and heavy summer romance. But Geordie has hang-ups of his own, including an aversion to getting too attached to anyone or anything. When things get a little too heavy between him and Zane, his instinct to cut loose and run free is tested, and Zane’s plans for a perfect escape of his own might never get off the ground.

Back to the Sky is the "air" in the Elementals project.

Back to the Sky was first published by Loose Id in 2015. This second edition (2018) has a different cover and a few minor edits, but is otherwise the same.

Now available from Amazon and Kindle Unlimited!

Geordie Finsen by Astro


Then something electric blue caught Zane’s attention, and the party animal himself appeared. Tight undershirt tank that did absolutely nothing to disguise the hard body beneath, hemp necklace and bracelet looking frayed enough to fall off, a black tattoo of a peace sign blaring from the tanned white skin of his neck.

Looked like it hurt. Then again, the guy looked like he could take some pain. He was built like a brick shithouse.

“Hey, Gloria,” said the party animal, giving her a one-armed hug that nearly enveloped her. “Glad you could make it, girl. And hey”—he turned to Zane with a grin—“neighbor dude. Awesome.”

“Zane Woodward.” Zane held out his hand, still eyeing the guy. “Sorry, we sort of invited ourselves.”

A warm hand, strong, about the same size, closed around Zane’s and squeezed.

“Everyone does, man. Good to meet you. Geordie Finsen.” He patted Zane on the shoulder with his free hand before disengaging and turning to Raff.

“Raff Moreno.” He took Geordie’s hand and pumped it. “I’m his best friend and social director. It’s my life’s work.”

“Actually, he’s a chef at Tawny Corporate’s catering division,” Zane corrected. “Dragging me to shit is just a hobby.”

“You got the job?” Gloria shoulder-punched Raff, apparently for not telling her his good news last month.

They continued with the banter, and Geordie settled next to Zane against the wall. His bare arm, tightly drawn biceps and triceps, brushed against Zane’s well-worn, soft T-shirt. Geordie smelled like something good, like outdoors, but real outdoors, not some body-spray bullshit.

They were about the same height, and Geordie leaned in conspiratorially. “You like champagne?”

Zane flicked his gaze to meet Geordie’s. It was intense and pale, a kind of colorless, shiny silver, but it flashed with trouble. Normally, Zane wasn’t all that into white boys, just because they tended to be clueless, and he got enough of that in his life. This one was fine enough that he might make an exception.

In a totally hypothetical way. Because not as if he was planning to make a move on a perfect stranger. That was not how he rolled—and when he tried, it was just awkward as hell. But in theory, yeah. Yeah, he wouldn’t kick the guy out of bed.

Zane smiled. “I’m just that bougie, yeah.”

“Bottle of Veuve Clicquot in the fridge. You guys can hit that up.”

“Nah, that’s good shit. I couldn’t.”

Geordie elbowed him, like an old friend telling secrets. “Enjoy it, man. Least I can do for keeping you awake every night, right?” He pushed off the wall. When he glanced back to wink, Zane noticed that under the uneven tufts of dyed hair, the tips of Geordie’s ears were faintly pointed.

So, not so much Jay Gatsby as someone’s D&D wet dream. Not that Zane minded.

The evening grew late and heavy, occasionally lifted up by an especially good track or Raff’s arm around his neck or a shared glance with hot-body party boy. Also, the bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

Raff eventually pressed his lips to Zane’s ear. “What’s with blue boy making eyes at you?”

“He’s not,” Zane lied, too tipsy to feel shame for it.

“You totally want to smash in that back door.”

Zane just smiled.


“Dirty Girl Scouts make great body shots.” Geordie yanked off his shirt, revealing a broad, defined series of muscles and grooves across his bare chest and stomach that made Zane sit up straighter and squeeze his legs together. The hair trailing from the center of Geordie’s chest down, past the sweet indentation of his navel, over the flat hardness of his lower belly, into his shorts, was scruffy and pale.

Zane almost laughed at himself. Of course it fucking was—what, had he expected it to be blue? Jesus. “A’ight. Let’s do it.”

Geordie threw his shirt at the sliding glass door, then pointed to Zane. “‘First you gotta lose the shirt.”

Zane complied. He wasn’t as cut as Geordie—with muscles that were more long, flat planes than defined in deep relief. He took care of himself, though, and it was sure as hell nothing to feel ashamed of.

“Then…” Geordie leaned over to rummage for the chocolate. When he found it, he sat up on his knees. “I’m not really into food play, by the way. I just kind of want to lick you.”

Zane thought, Holy shit, is this really happening? Zane said, “Read my mind, man.”

“Don’t move,” said Geordie. “Stay just like that.”

Zane stilled, hands pressing hard into the clay tiles beneath him. Geordie threw one leg over his lap and sat straddling his thighs, facing him. The smell of clean sweat filled Zane’s head, overpowering the peppermint. When Geordie leaned forward, looming over him, Zane rolled his head to one side, offering up his neck.

Something wet and cold hit his collarbone, and Zane lifted his shoulder to form a deeper cup. It filled with chocolate, cooling his overheated skin; a little line of it dripped down his chest onto his jeans.

He wrestled down a sudden shudder as it tried to race through his body. Goose bumps broke out, and his nipples hardened.

Geordie placed his hands at Zane’s middle, thumbs sinking into his jeans. He lowered his head, opened his mouth, and— Jesus Christ, look at him stick that fine ass up in the air like a goddamn cat in heat.

Geordie licked up his pec, cleaning up the little chocolate trail before more could drip off. Raff was right. I so want to smash in that back door. Fffffffuuuuuuuuu—

The thought never completed, as by that time, Geordie was sucking at his collarbone, licking, sucking some more, licking again, cleaning it out. Zane’s nipples perked even tighter; his fingers and toes tingled. His dick grew too heavy to hide, and fast. He curled up his fingers, forming fists to try and keep him from grabbing for the fine-ass man in his lap. His throat clenched as he bit back a little groan, swallowed it whole.

Geordie sat up, snagged a shot glass from the ground next to his knee, dropped the contents into his mouth, and began shaking his head.

Gently this time, but it still meant there was now a vibrating fine-ass man spread out over Zane, the backs of his thighs pressing into the tops of Zane’s, the flat of his belly, the button of his fly, the mouthwatering bulge behind it, all inviting Zane to touch, stroke, play. Zane uncurled his hands and ran his fingertips through the trail of hair between Geordie’s navel and the waist of his shorts. His skin was warm all over, like it held the sunshine.

Geordie swallowed and settled his ass against Zane’s thighs again. He dragged the back of his hand over his mouth and said, “You made it taste better.”

Zane sank two fingers into the front of Geordie’s shorts and pulled, just a little. Not enough to actually bring him forward.

Just enough to let him know he wanted to.

Geordie grinned and edged forward. Zane tilted his face up, and again Geordie went with it, tilting his face and pressing his lips to Zane’s. They were soft, as soft as they looked, sticky and sweet with chocolate and peppermint. Zane licked at the full lower lip, sucked at it, then started a new kiss. Geordie’s lips parted under his, and he scooted his ass up Zane’s thighs until they were that close to optimum dry-hump position. One of Zane’s hands stayed between them, running up and down the flat of Geordie’s belly, tickling; the other slipped around his waist, held him close, ran over the curve of that ass.

Geordie hummed a little, closed off the kiss, and let his forehead rest against Zane’s. Zane’s breath had gone heavy, his chest tight and his heart thumping. A little wind picked up and ruffled his hair, and he vaguely thought it might cloud up again, rain on them. He was fresh outta fucks to give, apparently.

“You want to try?” Geordie asked.

Zane could think of a couple of things he wanted to try right then, yeah.


4 (out of 5) Stars from Meredith @ Diverse Reader
4 (out of 5) Hearts from Lisa @ MMGood
4 (out of 5) Stars from Redz @ Redz World
4.5 (out of 5) Stars from Jay @ Joyfully Jay

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