stalemated | And spend the rest of my life, imprisoned, with you.

With an annoyed sigh, the Master made a point of aggressively yanking on his cuffs, not caring if they sliced into his skin. "Okay, point made, very funny. Now let me go. This is getting a little ridiculous and while I do love a good bondage sessions, you rather spoiled it by getting blood in my hair."

And all over his hands, his shirt, his jacket and face. He just wanted a shower at this point and maybe an excuse to leave.

"Doctor, I'm warning you, let me go."

Which, of course, he was stupid thing for him to say as he could warn him all day, he had absolutely nothing to use against him. The flaws of being a prisoner was the lack of leverage he had.

"I feel sufficiently warned," the Doctor assured him, finally turning around and approaching him, eyeing the cuff that still held him suspiciously, less with an intent of opening it and more to check whether it was still secure.

"But I suppose this is rather unpractical, on the whole. Not very comfortable, either."

He stepped forward, grinning too wide suddenly. Still not quite there, this one.

"Just trust me. I'll take care of you."

The way the Doctor looked at him wasn't right, he'd given that look before. And he didn't really like. There was something very wrong with that smile. But it didn't scare him enough that he was willing to just back down.

"You're not keeping me like some pet, Doctor."

And, with that, he swung out and purposefully caught the Doctor's face with his spare hand, trying to get a good slap in. It was hard to physically attack someone like this but maybe he could stun him or knock him unconscious if he tried hard enough. But hell, if death didn't stop him, what would.

"Let me go!"

"Oh wow." The Doctor rubbed his face, almost giddy for whatever reason. "I don't think I've been slapped like this since I last visited the Queen." He didn't mention which queen and chances were there were a lot of queens out there who'd ever so readily slap him around given the chance.

"Now calm down, this temper tantrum isn't going to do anyone any good." He ever so calmly started to look through the med kit he'd brought in before. "I'm going to sedate you a little, alright? Before you hurt yourself."

"I would of done much better with two arms, trust me," the Master threatened as he watched the Doctor carefully, eyes on the medkit. Sedation? Oh no chance, he was not being pumped full of drugs and left incapable of fighting his fate. He wasn't going to get locked away in this rust bucket of a ship while his enemy had a mental breakdown.

"No! No, no, no. Keep that thing away from me," the Master threatened, ready to give all the fight he had. Hence why he was now shifting to the side to kick out if he had to, one spare hand lifted in front of him for defence. "You're not drugging me!"

"I'd never doubt that you'd make a wonderful queen," the Doctor assured him. Then he pulled out something that certainly looked like a syringe and aimed. It hit, a little chip landing right on the Master's neck and attaching itself before he could pull it off.

And then the drugs were injected and it only took seconds before the Master quite literally swooned into the Doctor's arms.

When he woke up, a considerable amount of time later, he wore different clothes, his hair was clean and, oh, he was tied to a bed. Yes, tied, not cuffed or chained, because apparently the Doctor had a lot of silk ties laying about.

"Are you finally awake? Really, if I had known you are Sleeping Beauty, I'd have lowered the dosage."

Hazily, the Master blinked a few times and looked around the room, feeling a little like someone had filled his head with cotton. Eventually the blur started to fade and his brain tuned into whatever it was the Doctor was saying to him, none of it feeling ressuring. Looking up, he gave the Doctor a glare of annoyance and made a move to attack.

Only he find his arms straining awkwardly, unable to move away from the bedposts or even get closer to the bastard.

"What?" Looking down, he stared at his new set of clothes with a baffled expression. Wait, this was a little -- he was going to go with strange. Definitely strange. What was happening? "Did you change my clothes?"

Yes, being tied to the bed was clearly second place to having his clothes changed.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at him, then shrugged his shoulders. "You were going to keep fussing about them otherwise. I know you."

He pushed away from the desk and jumped on the bed, bouncing lightly before sitting down between and on the Master's legs, smiling at him friendly enough.

"How are you feeling?" It was faint, but it was there, underneath the crazy. Pity. Worry. The promise to fix him. He reached out and tugged one of the knots keeping him to the bedpost just a little bit tighter, letting his free hand rest on the Master's chest.

"Well you covered them in blood. And these aren't much better," Seriously, your taste in clothes are dire, Doctor. The shirt he had screamed 'cheap and untailored. Couldn't he be well dressed if he had to be a hostage? Or tied to a bed by a lunatic? Or whatever this was.

"I'm feeling pissed off," the Master admitted, purposefully lifting and kicking his legs a little to try and throw the idiot off balance. "You can't keep me like this. Eventually I'll need the bathroom or to get some exercise. The longer I stay on this bed, the worse my revenge will be. Understood?"

Sure, he could threaten all day but he seriously had no plan for this one. How could he get free when he was tied to a bed?

"I understand. I'm quivering in fear." As he assured the Master of that, lying very transparently, he stretched out on top of him, ending up with his ear pressed against his chest, his palms doing the same. Maybe he shouldn't have dressed him.

The only hearts in the whole universe that still beat like his. He'd fix him. He had to.

He gave the Doctor a few seconds to get off him and do something normal and rational... but when he remained just lying on the Master, he couldn't help but try to knee the Doctor in the balls. It was an awkward angle and hard to get his knee between the Doctor's legs but by Rassilon, he was going to try.

"Get off me, Doctor. This isn't funny!"

"We're having a moment," the Doctor reprimanded, avoiding the knee being painful simply by shifting a bit and trapping the Master's legs more effectively. Not much leverage to be gotten like this. "Don't be so rude."

He did get a hand under the shirt he'd put on the Master now, running over his chest until he could feel his hearts beat.

"The worst thing was thinking I'd lose you."

"We're not having a moment. A moment is a mutual thing. This is a captive moment I can't escape," the Master insisted with a glare, settling for wriggling around defiantly to try and get the Doctor off him. If he could flip him onto the floor, it'd be like Christmas. "What's happened to you? Feeling the post regen crazy?"

Most Time Lords got a little mad after that, maybe this was just a phase and later the Doctor would untie him and apologise.

"You're going to lose me. I'm not staying with you, moron."

"I mean how I could keep you alive, after all you did. But I forgive you." The Doctor lifted his head so he could catch the Master's eyes, clearly having a different kind of conversation, one that included soulful staring into each other's eyes instead of whatever the Master thought he was doing.

"I forgive you for all of it." He reached up to comb his fingers through the Master's hair, just a gentle touch. "But I will still have to make sure of some things."

"I reject it. Your forgiveness is pathetic, do you know that? And you have no right to it, you can't forgive me for what I did to other people, who are you to take that on board?" the Master argued, not willing to play into the idiots messiah complex. He wasn't going to give him that boost he needed.

But that last sentence... it didn't sit right with him. He stared for a moment, sitting still with a baffled expression on his face. "Make sure of what?"

"I forgive on my behalf. And you don't care about what you do to anyone else, anyway." The Doctor shrugged, apparently satisfied with that inherently flawed argument. Then he crossed his arms on the Master's chest, still holding his gaze with a very hard to read expression.

"You'll have to wait and see." And then he kissed him, which really was a big hint toward something or other being quite wrong.

"You do, you care. You always care," the Master said with an edge of desperation, knowing that something was wrong and he was in big trouble now. He was trapped on a ship with a mad man and he had no allies to help him. Wonderful. "I think you need to go take a few minutes to recover from your regeneration, it's given you an emotional lobotomy."

And, then, the kiss happened. Something he couldn't deny he'd wanted but he definitely knew the Doctor wasn't interested. Not any more. Or so he'd thought anyway. He yanked his head away, just to make a point, and made an attempt to headbutt him. "Something is seriously wrong with you!"

"Hush. Hush, Koschei." The Doctor's voice was just a whisper, but the grip on the Master's hair to hold his head in place was far from gentle. Such a contrast with the soft look in his eyes, too, as he leaned down to kiss him again, lips pressing against his, his tongue sliding into his mouth.

Just the two of them here and it just felt right.

The Master knew what he was going next was a dodgy move but hearing that name always brought out the worst in him. That's why he took his chance and bit down on the Doctor's lip. Hard, until it bled. He wanted to teach him a lesson about who was in charge here. Once he had enough space to pull back, he did, spitting at the Doctor in disgust.

"Who do you think you are? Trying to use me like this? Using that name. You're going to pay for this," the Master warned dangerous.

The Doctor just licked his bleeding lip, letting out a quiet, breathless laugh as he wiped his face. He shook his head, not bothering to hide his amusement. "Don't be so paranoid. I'd never use you." Because he had decided that what he was doing wasn't using him.

"I'm just keeping you from running. For once."

"Oh yes, I'm being entirely unreasonable, being paranoid when tied to a bed," the Master pointed out, looking more pissed off than anything else. He knew he should perhaps be concerned or scared but he just felt anger. This was all so humiliating, how dare this idiot think he can drug and tie up the Master, of all people. "Look, I know that you've unhinged a few screws somewhere along the line but I'm not playing this game. Untie me or go away."

And give him chance and time to work his way free of the binding. Hell, if he could get free then maybe he could rewire the console and steal the ship again.

"I'm glad you see my point." Mostly ignoring whatever the Master was yammering about, the Doctor ran a finger down his forehead, flicking his nose with a wide smirk before using both hands to pull himself up, hovering over the Master and looking down at him.

"You should be glad it's a bed, don't you think? All things considered. There would be some alternatives that might be much more fitting, after all you've done."

Snarling, the Master yanked against the ties around his wrist, refusing to be treated in such a way. "Oh, you wouldn't though, would you? This is proof. You never would do that, you coward. You have limits, it's what makes you weak. And what makes me stronger."

There was a level of cocky insistence there but he had to stand his ground. Admittedly the bed wasn't bad, a little odd certainly, but he refused to let himself worry. After all, the Doctor really wouldn't hurt him... would he? "Lets just stop playing this tedious little game. It started off exciting but I've long since lost interest. Release me."

It was a very simple action, all things considered. The back of the Doctor's head met the Master's cheek, just like that. Not exactly a savage beating, but ever so far from going easy on him. He shook out his hand afterwards, raising an eyebrow. Cocky, very cocky indeed. "I said it before. People really have to stop telling me what I would and wouldn't do."

And instead of doing anything akin to releasing him, he reached over to the nightstand to pull yet another tie out of the drawer while regarding the Master calmly.

The Master hissed loudly, to shocked to say anything at first. The Doctor just slapped him? That was a little more violent that he usually leaned. Shocked, he jerked his hand, wanting to touch his face, to see what state it was in. It ached more than he'd of thought. So help him, if he was marked then he'd make the Doctor pay for that.

"You'll pay for that," the Master said darkly, glaring at the Doctor. He watched him carefully, eyes on the tie. Oh great, what now? "You better hope I never get my hands on you."

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