Playing with the Big Boys

"Do you know what I think, Aladdin?"

He watches the boy struggle against his bindings, listens to him curse and quite rudely ignore his question. He cocks an eyebrow, then grabs the front of Aladdin's vest, pulling him closer, close enough to feel those hot and ragged breaths on his lips.

"I asked you a question," he states, and Aladdin, being Aladdin, simply opts to headbutt him. He stumbles backward, pressing his hand to his forehead, willing the dull throb and impending bruises away quickly.

Without a warning, he sends a stream of magic toward the street rat, knocking the air of him and breaking a rib or two.

He grabs the vest again, and then his hand meets Aladdin's cheek; maybe he'll be able to beat the insolence out of him one of these days. When Aladdin faces him again, he's glaring and panting and swallows hard because the boy is just so damn beautiful when broken.

"I think you don't realize just how in over your head you actually are," the sorcerer finally croons.