"G-Goddamn it... please take your arms from around me. I won't ask again."

"Mmmmm, maaaaybe," Chamomile replied in a little singsong voice.

Apple closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his small glasses. However calm and stern he made his voice sound, nervous beads of sweat still appeared on his forehead. He wasn't that naive. He knew exactly where Chamomile's hands were headed, and it made him extremely flustered and uncomfortable... especially in his pants.

"Please, just let go and leave me to my work, girl." Apple flashed his light brown eyes over his shoulder to glare down at her. He always made it a point to never say her name, ever since they had first met a few months earlier. He didn't know whether it bothered her or not - it didn't seem to - but it did make him feel better. To him, she was always "hey," or "you," or, most commonly, "girl." That was Apple's favorite degradation.

Chamomile, as it turned out, did notice it, but did not let it bother her. Besides, at this point, the angry look he gave her only fueled her further to continue her harassment. It warmed her inside, stimulated her, and she giggled to express her delight as she suddenly found the zipper beneath the belts of his pants and began to tug at it.

That set him off.

"All right! Look, stop it, stop it now! D-do you hear me? Ch-Cuh... s-stop!" Apple had finally begun squirming, his face flushed and burning red, trying to wriggle away from the other creator's tight little grip and ever intruding hands that were very small and had ways of getting into places in which they did not belong.

When he heard the familiar noise of his pants' zipper sounding, and prodding fingers poking through, he all but freaked out and lunged forward to escape the molestation.

"GODDAMMIT!"

"Eeeeee!"

Chammie squealed as she felt herself lurch forward, carried by Apple's weight. It was certainly a squeal of surprise, since she had been distractedly enamorated by the feeling of Apple's hard back pressed against her cheek, his firm abs under the fabric of his shirt gliding beneath her fingertips, and the slight bulge that had been forming in the palm of her other hand.

She hadn't been able to resist it. When she'd found his zipper, her fingers acted on their own, grasping needily for a chance to stroke him. Hell... she'd been wanting for a day like this to come since she'd first laid eyes on him. His resistance from the first moment had piqued her interest in him for weeks to come, and she found him ever challenging. No man had ever resisted her before, and they were often the ones who'd found themselves with an empty bed in the morning, and no sign of Chamomile within miles.

They were, quite simply put, her conquests.

Of course, she'd had boyfriends in the past, and it wasn't like she'd sleep with anyone who came along... she did have standards, even for a nymphomaniac.

But no denying it, Chamomile was a well-known slut.

Apple knew this, and resented her for it. Even if he had been into her, he'd only end up like the rest of them. Touching him with her soiled hands now, she was definitely overstepping her boundaries. He always knew she'd try something like this, by the way he caught her looking at him sometimes.

But he'd be a dead man before he'd let her do anything, he always told himself, which is why he scrambled to get away from her, and by doing so, crashed into his cart, tipping it over as well as tripping himself. Its contents spilled out and scattered across the concrete, and potion bottles smashed and soaked the items around them. Those that did not break instead rolled away with the clattering sound of glass-against-stone, all as Apple crumpled to the ground in the process.

Yep...

As he stared at his possessions half-ruined, Apple told himself that this was definitely Chamomile's fault, simply because she, by his own admission, was not allowed to touch him.

No, it couldn't possibly have been because Apple was a shy virgin, and Chamomile a devious seductress out to give him what was sure to be one of the greatest pleasures of his life.

It couldn't possibly have been that the thought of him experiencing that pleasure scared the absolute living hell out of him.

Instead, Apple convinced himself that the little demon was responsible for every current problem in his life, and as he glared at his things everywhere, hands splayed out on the ground, he tightened his fists and growled low in his throat.

Chamomile had already lifted herself off of him pretty much as soon as they both hit the ground. Immediately she felt regret, and was genuinely sorry and concerned about all of Apple's things. As she siddled up onto her knees, she leaned over his back a little to try and peer at the damage they'd caused.

"Er... Um... I'm sorry, Apple," she meekly murmured, her brows furrowed worriedly, but he wouldn't have any of it.

"Look what you did, you little idiot!" Apple exploded at her, turning around onto his backside to face her. "Now I'll have to...!"

Chamomile blinked at him as he suddenly cut his sentence short. He seemed to be giving her a funny look, now that he'd spun himself around so that Chammie was positioned on both her hands and knees, bent over at a compromising angle, between his legs.

Fact was, Apple had been stunned into silence. For whatever ungodly reason just then, Chamomile suddenly appeared so cute and innocent, and so incredibly sexy to him. As she sat there between his knees, bending over as though she were a minx, her small but round breasts exposing a considerable amount of cleavage for their size, and giving him utterly the cutest and most innocently concerned look he'd ever seen come from her...

Well.

She had managed to turn him on.