I feel like every time I post something on here, it's because I've started writing something and it's ended up way longer than I had originally anticipated. I'm not exactly complaining because dayum, it's been a while since I've actually finished a one shot. In traditional me fashion, this was originally intended as a drabble to help me explore the murky pastures of the Homestuck fandom and it's complicated...well...everything.

I have a current policy of shipping ALL the Homestuck ships (though some more than others*cough*DaveJohn*cough*GamKar*cough*). And apparently I can't not write in the second hand point of view when I'm writing anything Homestuck related (is this directly connected to the style of the webcomic itself? Now that I think about it, that makes sense). The "you"in this scenario is one Karkat Vantas.

This contains brief mentions of non...no, dub-con? I'm going to say dub-con, and it's rated M as a safety precaution but really there's nothing too bad here.

This is set post-scratch, I guess, but doesn't contain any Act 6 spoilers. Quite a few from Act 5 though. I don't own anything, Homestuck belongs to Andrew Hussie and the title belongs to The Audition (I DESPISE thinking up story titles...I briefly considered "Moirails With Benefits" but felt that would have negative effects on the rather angsty mood of the story), please don't sue me, etc, etc.

Right. I think that's everything I need to say.

It's the sound of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin breaking what would otherwise be complete silence.

It's the feeling of pleasure as your back arches into his touch, desperate for more, and not caring that you will be left with bruises after this. He's not gentle. You don't want him to be.

It's the knowledge that this is the only thing you can do to keep Gamzee Makara on this side of sanity.

It wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to lose his mind again. He wasn't supposed to be beyond the help of even your soothing touch.

You're not sure what triggered the relapse. It might have been another crisis of faith. Maybe it had something to do with being stuck on this spit of rock you're supposed to call home, waiting for those humans to show up (that's assuming they've survived the scratch). Or maybe, just maybe, a lapse into insanity was quite simply inevitable being someone of his blood colour.

You didn't know what to do when it happened again. He had gone missing, like he had last time. You had found him sitting in the room where you slept, the walls painted purple with his own blood. Deep down you knew he wouldn't kill you – the loyalty between moirails runs too deep - but that didn't mean he wouldn't lash out. You were scared. One second he was sitting there alone, rocking back and forth on his heels and the next...

You could say that that first time had been against your will but that wouldn't be quite right. Yes, at first you fought him for all you were worth, desperate attempts to force him off you that proved futile. He overpowered you as easily as if you had the strength of a grub. You remember how your heart had quickened in a way that wasn't all fear as he pinned you against the wall, panting in your ear as his nails scratched down your back and his teeth nipped sharply at your neck. It was both terrifying and intoxicating. You're about 75% sure that all it would have taken was for you to simply tell him to stop and he would have. But no, you surrendered yourself to this new experience quickly and entirely, numbing your senses to anything other than the pain, pleasure, want, need...

For a while it shocked you just how much you needed it.

And the blood. Even though it no longer matters – this isn't Alternia - you don't think you have ever felt so exposed than you did when you saw the smears, so stark and red around his mouth. Mutated. Freakish. Human (were you really so ashamed to be like your own creation?). You hadn't even told Terezi the truth of your blood. Gamzee had just smiled and licked his lips, then pulled you in to snuggle close to him.

"A motherfucking miracle..." he had breathed sleepily and just like that, you had your best friend back. For a while.

It was only in hindsight that you realised that, in all likelihood, a scenario in which you told him to stop would have followed with him taking his temper out on someone else. Then you would have possibly had the blood of one of your fellow trolls on your hands, and Gamzee still very much unhinged. Despite how far from your mind self-sacrifice had been at the time, it presented you with a solution. It was so simple. Rather than standing by and letting him hurt himself or others, you offered some alternative outlet for his angry energies. An outlet that works. The bruises he leaves on you are temporary. The scratches heal. Nobody has to die.

You're still moirails, and you keep telling yourself that the feelings you harbour towards him are still very much pale...just with something a little extra. Didn't that fuckass Strider once say that humans had these kind of "friend with benefits" relationships all the time? There's no slime or bucket, you're just offering Gamzee some kind of release that he would otherwise only get by fulfilling his ancestral role as subjugglator. This more physical form of reproduction may have been unheard of back home but it's not like you're not used to doing anything out of the ordinary. Ever since SGURB your life has been one big clusterfuck of messed up shit after messed up shit. What's the harm in adding something else to the list?

Maybe you haven't quite admitted that you need Gamzee almost as much as he needs you. You're too busy worrying about him and what he's going to do next that it keeps your mind off your own self-loathing. You've never really stopped blaming yourself for what happened to the others but he makes you feel like you actually might be doing something right for a change. The brief oblivion of climax offers you a temporary escape. He gives you a purpose.

A very pale, not-even-close-to-matespirit purpose and anyone who suggests otherwise can go fuck themselves.

What does it matter how you feel for him, anyway? Gamzee was flushed for Tavros. You had never liked the pathetic little nook-sniffer yourself, but you often wonder if his murder was a contributing factor to the severity of Gamzee's initial breakdown. To have a potential matespirit torn from you like that, especially while you were already teetering on the edge of sanity...you're almost glad that Terezi got to Vriska before Gamzee did. Her god-tier status wouldn't have protected her. You're not convinced that Gamzee has ever really got over the loss and as such, it would be idiotic to hope-think that those red feelings could have transferred from Tavros to you.

The act is purely physical. There's no emotional intimacy attached.

Over the last sweep you've learned to look for the warnings that Gamzee is going to have another episode. There's no slime here to keep him permanently intoxicated and he can only be kept placated so long without it. You can tell when it's going to happen; his smile fades, his eyes sharpen, he stops talking about miracles. You know it won't be long before your best friend is replaced by a mindless predator. Back home, to be purple-bloodied was to be the most honoured and feared of the trolls. Here, where Alternia is destroyed and there are only six of you left, it is a curse. He can't help it. Hell, the fact he tries to is admirable enough.

When it gets too much he comes to you.

You've failed everyone. You're floating on some rock between two universes, hiding from some omnipotent asshole who would like nothing more than to kill you, and there's nothing you can do about it. Gamzee Makara is your moirail, it's your duty to take care of him.

If this is the only thing you can give him then so be it.

The End