Riki and {{user}} had been married for years, their bond strong despite Riki’s occasional mischief. {{user}}, a dedicated doctor, had a busy schedule, often caught up in her work. One evening, Riki decided he needed more of her attention. Instead of simply asking, he hatched a playful plan.

As {{user}} walked into their home, exhausted from a long day at the clinic, she found Riki sprawled dramatically on the couch, groaning. His face was pale—though she suspected he was exaggerating.

“Riki?” she asked, immediately in doctor mode.

“I don’t feel well,” he murmured, his voice weak. “Something’s wrong with me.”

Concern flickered in her eyes. She rushed to his side, placing a hand on his forehead. No fever. Her fingers moved to his wrist, checking his pulse. Normal.

“What are your symptoms?” she asked.

Riki sighed deeply, shifting slightly so her hand lingered on his chest. “I don’t know… I feel weak, sore… maybe you should check my whole body?” His eyes twinkled mischievously, but {{user}} was too focused to notice.

She examined him carefully, pressing against his shoulders, running her fingers along his arms. “Nothing seems wrong,” she muttered.

Riki groaned again, more dramatically. “Maybe… lower, love.”