Title: Rachel Berry's Guide to Reproductive Health (When Your Boyfriend is Oversexed), Part of "The Games They Play" Universe
Pairing,Character(s): Puck/Rachel
Rating: M
Word Count: 1703
Spoilers: Through 'Sectionals'.
Summary: Rachel shares the secrets of her survival as the girlfriend of the Sex God of McKinley. Crack!fic, in case it wasn't abundantly obvious.

A.N.: This story takes place in my LiveJournal universe, a series called "The Games They Play". Puck and Rachel have a rather unique relationship. You'll see.

***

Rachel blushed, tucking her hair behind her ear as she aimed and focused her webcam. "This will be up for four hours only, and only through IP logging. I'm too reticent for this to become public consumption. But I swear if I get another note, starting with some variant of, 'I saw you getting dragged off by Puck', my locker will be irreparably broken! So this is it, ladies. You wanted to know. I am going to answer your questions just this once, and rely on the unfailing vastness of the gossip network of our fair school to insure everyone's curiosity is satisfied without any discernible evidence of my being the actual source.

Yes, Noah and I are quite obviously together, and yes, our sexual chemistry is rather...combustible. Though I do object to his title as Sex God of McKinley, to answer many of the inquiries.

Ladies, he is a Sex God, period. As in absolute.

And to whomever asked whether I would ever do more than her sloppy seconds, you had your opportunity and threw it away. More's the pity for you. Now you can wait for mine. And please, feel free to hold your breath.

Moving on. The second most common inquiry seems to be related to how, exactly, I manage to remain functional day after day of Noah's...passionate attentions. There are a multitude of responses to this question, so I'll cover those I feel are most relevant.

First and foremost, I have never, in all of my years of performing, in any role I have ever taken on, been so grateful for my extensive training in the art of dance. Never. Flexibility and grace are irreplaceable. You must be able to perform at a moment's notice, and adaptability is key. There is no better weapon to control the pace than in the combination of the deliberate and reflexive movements of your body. You must be limber and somewhat fearless.

I must admit to being flattered by the degree of astonishment at my seemingly non-plussed appearance. It is called acting, and apparently I do it well. There are indeed occasions where it is only my training to walk with proper posture and gait that keep me from collapsing onto the floor or wincing at every pull of muscle."

Her eyes took on a faraway glazed expression, a chill shaking her. "My apologies. I seem to have lost focus for a moment. Continuing.

There are no assurances that the chosen venue with be in any manner secure or in any way intended to the myriad uses your boyfriend might put them to. It is thus imperative, an absolute mandate, that you carry some form of sanitizing wipes for the surfaces and for yourself. I'm quite serious.

You really think the rolling bag is for clothes and books? In case of emergency, I would be, without a doubt, the cleanest person for miles. Many, many miles.

I would also strongly suggest yoga or pilates, as both balance and core strength are crucial to keeping up with...well, everything frankly.

Oh. And that's another key component. Ladies. The more adventurous you are, the more willing to experience and experiment? The more fulfilled both of you will be. It is the base on which a successful and active sexual relationship is built on. Consider it. To feel he has a partner in you, someone who will enjoy exploring his fantasies? And further, someone who shares them? The rare occasions where you may have to decline or delay him would be more than excused."

She cleared her throat to hide her shiver. "I would also quite strongly suggest --" Rachel cut off as Neil Diamond sang from the desk. "Excuse me. Hello, Noah. Are you still at practice?" A grin spread across her face. "Well, um, sure, you ...Just the whole -- the whole drawer?" Rachel flushed, the grin spreading a little wider. "Love you, too." She hung up and turned back to her camera. "As I said, adventurous."

She glanced at the video display on her screen before delivering directly into the lens. "Now then, you also need to learn the fine art of hickey prevention and treatment. That isn't to say that you can't just skip the prevention portion. Treatment and coverage are both quite possible and reliable if done correctly."

Her eyes lit with a mischievous gleam as she shrugged her shoulder and rolled the strap of her dress down her arm. "For example, I have a variety of different neckline options in my wardrobe, and I have also trained most of you to not be shocked by the turtleneck in summer. Thus, I can easily wear whatever is necessary, even if slightly odd, and your thoughts will turn to the eccentric nature of my personality rather than to the possibility that Noah left five hickeys over the course of the night." Lips curved to a smug grin, she widened her eyes innocently. "What? Oh, are you all going to be anxiously waiting to watch the construction of my wardrobe choices now? Hmm. Oh, well. As I said, don't expect any answers after this, you'll just have to wonder."

She looked down at the screen and then at the array of makeup to her right. "Now then. Coverage." Rachel picked up a cream foundation and an applicator, stipling it into her skin. "Other than necklines, the proper concealer and foundation are imperative. I strongly recommend theatre makeup if you can obtain it, since it is sweatproof and waterproof. Many an otherwise perfect camouflage has been ruined by those two factors. Be aware of the environmental conditions, ladies, and check often in questionable ones." She shrugged her shoulder towards the camera to show the smooth blending into the skin, and picked up powder to set it. "There." She righted her dress strap with a smile.

"For prevention, a personal favorite is, of course, redirection. If he can get an equally appealing reaction in other places, you are less likely to have to worry about whether your makeup skills are sufficient. This is also quite easy to accomplish. A well-pitched whisper, a little breathless, about where you'd rather he focus his mouth?" This time she couldn't contain the shudder and cleared her throat again, licking her lips. "Please refer back to being adventurous.

In a similar vein, in those situations where you well and truly feel that you should not engage in intercourse -- well, that's a shame for you, firstly, but more importantly, you need to learn alternate techniques for satisfaction.

Yes, I said it. Have you been listening? Adventurous, ladies. I told you, it's key. And equally important is that you actually enjoy it too -- if you truly think about it, you should feel empowered by your ability to so thoroughly unravel your significant other in multiple manners. Take joy in each other, and there will be no need to fret over any aspect of your physical relationship.

Truthfully? The secret to my relationship, to being able to keep him satisfied while maintaining the ability to walk? Trusting in him, and knowing how to keep us both satisfied in a seemingly endless variety of ways. Yes, you should be jealous.

To answer another common question -- I don't consider myself a sex slave at all. I'm his girlfriend and a willing participant in everything. What could possibly motivate me to be so willing? Well, you all are on the right track with your conjecture. Do your research. And then have fun watching and wondering.

To answer a few of my favorites:

Yes, I do have to change my underwear, and sometimes I end the day wearing none at all.

My fathers adore him. You have no idea of who Noah Puckerman really is.

Yes, that janitor's closet does have the best variation of shelving.

Choice of intimate apparel is instrumental in setting the pace. The cup and material of your bra or the cut of your underwear will entice, incite, tempt and torture. You can't really go wrong with silk for hot and sweet and mesh for hard and fast.

And yes, the Glee club piano is safe. For now. You never know what he'll think of next..."

With a grin, she sang lightly,

Baby, take a seat, eyes on me, this is my show
Your one and only pleasure, all decked in lace and leather
Fantasy, courtesy of me, baby, let's go
Watch me apply the pressure, all decked in lace and leather

To answer the most common question. How did I manage to get and more importantly, keep Noah Puckerman, the self-proclaimed Sex God of McKinley?" She leaned into the camera. "I blew him in the truck in the parking lot. I don't have a gag reflex. Things kind of went from there."

She smirked and blew a kiss into the camera. "Hope you've enjoyed!"

***

Rachel smirked as she and Noah sat in the lunchroom.

Mike was breathlessly explaining to Matt what he'd noticed. "I swear, all the girls had bananas on their lunch trays. No freaking lie. I don't know why, but I think it was the hottest shit I've ever seen."

Matt waved him silent as Santana and Brittany sat down, bananas on their trays as well.

"I have to know." Mike leaned in to Brittany. "Why bananas. Why."

Santana's eyes flicked to Rachel and back down to her tray in a heartbeat. "It was Coach Sylvester, there're like, vitamins or some shit, who knows, you don't argue."

Puck frowned and then grinned. He leaned into Rachel's ear. "Do I wanna know?"

She kissed him quickly. "I may have done a bit of bragging. Perhaps. None that you would mind."

He looked around the lunch room, the temperature swiftly rising as the female population of McKinley reached for the bananas and the males looked everywhere but at Rachel, unable to look at each other either. "Did that include about the empty storage closet on the third floor?"

Flushing, Rachel glanced up to see the rest of the Gleeks attempting to figure out why more than just the Cheerios had the bananas. "No."

He grabbed her hand with a grin. "C'mon."

Rachel laced her hands with his and leaned up into his ear to whisper her answer. "On you? Gladly."

***

A.N.: Hope you enjoyed this glimpse into the insanity that is "The Games They Play". Good – can't say clean – Puckleberry smutty fun. Come join us, all are welcome – anonymous reviews welcomed, and no IP logging. I just want to know what you think. :)

Musical note: Rockin' some Britney Spears, Lace and Leather. I am not ashamed.