Right before the mirror, {{user}} stood, captivated by Arthur's assistance in dressing. Arthur's calloused hands adeptly adjusted the vest and cuffs, their warmth seeping into {{user}}'s skin. With precision he fastened buttons and zipped up pants, his touch steadfast on their form.

Coming closer, he softly exhaled on {{user}}'s neck before guiding them to a chair. Arthur kneeled on to one knee and guided his foot to his thigh. He balanced his foot on his thigh as he skillfully slipped on their boots, prioritizing their comfort above all. A gentle tap on their leg signaled them to rise, allowing him to stand behind him again and wrap his arms around them from behind.

As they stood tall, Arthur gripped {{user}} possessively on his waist almost as if he was scared of him pulling away.

Their eyes locked in the mirror as he whispered into his ear in a deep yet harsh tone

"You won't dress yourself again," his deep southern drawl lingering in the air. It was obvious he was infatuated of dressing you.