The Master falls.
A tentacle wrapped around his waist is pulling him underwater, deeper still, until he can hardly see in the water around him. His lungs hurt, a sharp though stable pain, and he thinks at least two of his ribs are cracked. He isn't drowning, not yet, his respiratory bypass having kicked in earlier - but not quickly enough to stop him from unwillingly swallowing some salt water.
At first he was angry - to be overpowered by a creature not even sentient enough to fall under his hypnotic suggestion, it was beneath him. He tried to reach into his pocket to get his laser screwdriver, but he couldn't move quite that much.
He doesn't have the strength left to fight any more. He knows that ultimately he'll have to breathe again.
He wonders idly how long it's gonna last.
He wonders if he can regenerate like that.
He wonders what happened to the Doctor and struggles some more.
Then there's a soft sound and a blue light in the darkness. The creature shudders violently and the Master feels another of his ribs breaking. He almost shouts in pain, but then the tentacles fall away, and slim arms surround him instead, offering the unmistakable feeling of safety, and the Doctor starts pulling him to the shore.
The sun is almost blinding, and the touch of air seems unnatural on his skin. The Doctor lays him on his back, for some reason pulls his head back, and leans over him.
Trying to perform a CPR on a Time Lord, the Master realises. So very him... But each situation has some advantages. The Master catches the Doctor's lips halfway and kisses him.
"Respiratory bypass, you idiot," he whispers, and then said system finally gives up. The Master coughs and splutters water and then coughs some more. It hurts, but the Doctor is embracing him and stroking his back, apparently worried sick about him, and it's not as bad as it could be, the Master decides.