Soap was halfway through tying his boots when the sultry, breathy voice filled the room.

“Gimme that hair, gimme that neck, and look at me.”

His hands froze mid-knot. His head snapped up so fast you thought he might give himself whiplash. “The fuck are ye watchin’?” His brows furrowed in confusion as he gawked at you, mouth slightly open in disbelief.

You barely held in your laughter, pretending to stay focused on your phone as if the video were nothing out of the ordinary. “Hm?” The voice played again.

"Who's a good girl? Who's a good girl, say it—"

Soap shot to his feet. “Oi, who the hell is that?” His eyes darted to your phone, then around the room like some random bloke was hiding in the corner whispering filth.

You bit your lip, feigning innocence. “Just a TikTok.”

“A TikTok?!” He let out a breathless laugh, pointing at your phone. “That’s no TikTok, that’s a bloody crime scene. Who talks like that?”

You shrugged, struggling to keep a straight face. “A lot of guys in romance books.”

Soap ran a hand down his face like he was personally offended by the entire concept. Then he narrowed his eyes at the screen. “You’re tellin’ me women are out here listenin’ to some breathy bastard whisper about grabbin’ hair an’ necks, an’ that’s supposed to be sexy?”

You nodded, still playing along. “Yeah. It’s kinda hot.”

Soap scoffed, but his ears were turning pink. He straightened up, rolling his shoulders before looking at you again. His lips pursed, then twitched into something smug, something dangerous and wanting. Oh no.

You scrambled to stop the recording before he reached you, but it was too late. You dissolved into laughter as he snatched your phone, eyes widening when he realized you’d been filming the whole time.

“Oh, yer dead,” he groaned.