He couldn't have done this if the Doctor had just let him kick him around without giving anything back at all. Well, he could have done, but it wouldn't have helped much. As it was, what the Doctor had given him, with his quiet, dignified acquiescence to the pounding and by meeting him all the way in that kiss, was his control.
The Master, in the moment he worked that out, felt horribly, tearingly envious of his alter ego, who had this Doctor around all the time to help when things got too much.
The drums finally began to quieten, the adrenalin to seep out of him. He slowly ended the kiss and leaned his forehead against the Doctor's with a little sigh.