She struggled against him. But she knew her struggle was in vain. He was just too strong. Just too determined to not let her go. He had her against the bookshelf, pinned between his strong arms. His chest pushing her forcefully upwards against him. Every inch of their bodies was touching. His hardness painfully evident between her thighs and inching closer to her wet center. Despite the need to get away from him as soon as possible, her body continued to submit to his will. He was kissing her now. More like tasting her. Savoring her on his lips like a hunter preparing to go in for the kill. His kiss became deeper and harsher. Their tongues battling for dominance over each other. A dominance that was a continuous presence in their constant interactions. And tonight he had her at his control. She realized suddenly that he had no intention to let her go until he had established that dominance over her, especially over her body. Reveling in her nakedness was akin to reveling in her weakness. Her innermost secrets opened to him when he touched her purposely in the most private parts of her body. This was not just sex, but a battle that would be fought till the end with only their naked tangling limbs. Their clothes, a symbol of the hold of the world over them had been forcefully removed and discarded. They were now just male and female, engaged in an age-old ritual that was both overpowering to their senses as well as primitive to its very core. This was war, a war he had every intention to win. A war where she could see no way out rather where she had to stay and fight. Fight for her pride. A fight where she couldn't accept defeat. She had to fight and she would fight him with her body. She would humiliate him with her passion. Demand that his body serve the hungers of her body. Make his body an outlet to her rage, her love and her cruelty. When they would be done, they would go back to their own worlds, each with smirk of victory on their faces, knowing that both had won.