Rafe groaned as you straddled his lap, a jar of moisturizer in one hand and a cotton pad in the other. His head rested against the headboard, heavy with exhaustion, his eyelids low as he tried to protest.

“Baby, c’mon,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “This is stupid.”

You ignored him, gently swiping the cotton pad across his skin. “This is necessary.”

His lips twitched like he wanted to smirk, but he was too tired to commit. “No, sleep is necessary.”

You rolled your eyes but softened when you saw how relaxed he was becoming, his body sinking deeper into the pillows. His face, usually tense, was at peace under your touch.

“You like it,” you teased, dabbing moisturizer onto his cheekbones.

He huffed, but when you started massaging it in, his eyes fluttered shut, and a low, pleased sound escaped him. “Shut up.”

You grinned, rubbing slow circles into his skin, watching as his breathing evened out, his stubborn protests melting away.

By the time you finished, he was barely awake, his hands lazily gripping your waist to keep you close.