Growl 'n Grind (слэш)

“I already told you,” Hank shot. “I don’t have time--”
Hank had just enough time to see a shiny black boot fall to the roller board between his legs before he found himself dragged out from under the chassis and into the bright light of the garage proper. He threw a hand over his eyes, shielding himself from the piercing fluorescents. It wasn’t enough to block out the leather clad man hovering over him, though. Great. Just fucking great.
Connor stood over him with his foot still on the board, a goofy ass grin on his face and his motorcycle helmet propped on his hip. “Hello there, Hank,” he greeted, bending over to look at him properly. “I’d like to ask you to reconsider. I really need the work done today.”
“Yeah,” Hank grunted, shoving himself upright. Connor was wearing his leather riding suit still, so that probably meant he’d come straight here from the tracks. Wonderful, that. It meant he wasn’t likely to have much going on for the rest of the afternoon, and therefore would be even harder to kick out. Hank sighed. “I just bet you do.”