AN: I was asked to make Spock be nice to Checkov. As tempting as it is for me to do so, we'll have to see. I was watching reality TV as I was writing this, and it put me in a strangely sadistic mood.
Boots crossed the floor and came to a stop in front of him. A hand caught his chin and turned his head this way and that. The thumb of that hand forced his mouth open and pushed on his tongue, moving it around. Pavel stood perfectly still and didn't resist the manipulation of his jaw. The thumb ran over his teeth and pulled his lips down so the Master could examine him. The thumb left his mouth, and the hand pushed his head back. Fingers stroked over the tendons in his neck, felt at his Adam's apple, and moved downward.
Checkov audibly swallowed as the Master's hand traced down his chest. Fingers felt at his rib bones, traced over his naked hips, and slid farther down. The hand pushed his legs apart and cupped his member, holding it away from his body. The boy fought back a terrified squeak as the hand moved farther back and two fingers rubbed over his entrance.
The Master must have felt him tense because the hand withdrew from between his legs. The blindfold fell away from his eyes, and he immediately closed them.
"Look at me." The voice was almost as cold as the Manufacturer's was. Pavel obediently opened his eyes.
The face he saw was young and pale. Immaculately straight black hair framed the face. The Master had dark eyes and thin, upswept eyebrows.
"My name is Spock. You will address me as Master from now on. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Master." His voice sounded pathetically weak in his own ears, and he dropped his eyes.
"Look at me." Pavel's eyes immediately snapped back up to the Master's face. "There are clothes over there." One hand pointed to a low table, bearing a white shirt and leggings. "Dress yourself."
"Yes, Master."