Disclaimer: I'm still just playing with other people's toys. "May a lost god damballah rest or save us against the murders we intend against his lost white children" is a line from Amiri Baraka's incredible poem Black Dada Nihilismus, which I strongly encourage you all to go read.
Author's Note: Written for the lovely drippingwithsin; I hope it meets your expectations, or at least doesn't fail them by too great a margin. As always, everyone, come at me with Fiona prompts in reviews, via PM here or on my Tumblr (username: acascavel).
Marie Laveau's lips were so soft that Fiona Goode thought for one ridiculous, ludicrous moment that she was kissing a cloud. The thought left in the next instant because certainly cloud kisses didn't include bites, but voodoo kisses apparently did. Marie's teeth worried Fiona's bottom lip harshly enough that the blonde could taste her own blood, and the realization made her whimper and suck hard into the kiss, trying to drink back her own fluids, trying to get more of Marie inside of her mouth.
Marie gave one more torturous push of pressure with her teeth, and then she released Fiona's lip, pulling back so that their mouths were no longer connected, back far enough that she could watch the bright red well and dribble from tender, broken skin. Fiona's hazel-gold eyes were flashing darkness and her pale skin was flushed with pink from the blood rushing to the surface of her skin in response to the hurt. The voodoo queen smiled, and she knew that her white teeth were smeared red. A little sound escaped Fiona's mouth and shot straight to Marie's core, and the immortal turned away from her mortal counterpart, walking with a swaying gait over to one of the large earthenware jars on the fringe of the room.
Both women were naked. Fiona's eyes followed the confident undulating of the voodoo queen's movements, desire flaring at the sight of the woman's long toned legs, her bare back, the way her dark braids fell beyond her shoulders. Marie's muscles moved visibly under her skin as she bent over and reached into the jar, drawing out a large Burmese python, her biceps flexing under its weight.
She draped the snake carefully around her body, and when she turned to face Fiona again her breasts were hidden by its thick yellow body, part of it curled around her waist like a belt, its head traveling slowly down toward her pelvis, where a familiar wetness had already begun to pool.
"You're sure this is what you want," Marie said, and it was not entirely a question, because Fiona Goode was too stubborn to give any answer except yes.
Fiona did not reply. She raised her right hand and waited for Marie to return to her embrace.
The immortal did, walking slowly as to not disrupt the snake around her body, her eyes dragging across the Supreme's form, leaving physical trails of heat in their path. She slipped one hand into the blonde's hair when she came within reach, reeling her close for another kiss, tongue lapping at the nearly-staunched flow of blood, reopening the wound.
Fiona reached for Marie's shoulders but found her hands touching smooth scales, so she slid them down, down over the other woman's breasts, across the warmth of her sides, over the snake again, down until the witch could feel her fingers trailing over Marie's mound, over the snake's head, and then gently parting Marie's folds and dipping into searing wetness.
Marie groaned into Fiona's mouth and began to kiss down from the woman's lips to her chin, across her jaw and down the side of her neck, feeling Fiona's fingers slip around her core, darting in and swirling out. The blonde's eyes were closed, and her breathing was coming heavily as Marie began to nip at her neck, drawing their bodies flush together, insinuating a leg between Fiona's own, backing the blonde up slowly against the cool wall of the room, pressing a knee slow but hard into her rival-friend's burning core.
Fiona began to move her hips, smooth and slow, and the snake let his tongue flick out, the forked organ barely caressing Fiona's stomach. The woman let out a hitched sob, moving her fingers to smear against Marie's engorged clit. Marie hissed softly at the sensation and lifted her thumb to Fiona's mouth, running it harshly against the bruised and battered skin of her lip. Fiona opened her mouth and sucked Marie's thumb in, swirling her tongue around it almost desperately.
"Bite," Marie growled.
Fiona did, hard enough to feel blood spurt into her mouth. She swallowed instead of spitting, and Marie dragged her thumb down Fiona's body slowly, painting a glyph on her stomach with practiced ease before sliding it further, moving it between her own dark thigh and Fiona's clit, giving an added pressure that was enough to make the blonde swear and her knees buckle. Flame danced on the periphery of the Supreme's vision, but she wasn't certain if that was real or a casualty of the magic flooding around them as the ritual reached its height.
Marie snarled as Fiona's fingers rubbed firmly against her clit, and the snarl changed to a whimper as the snake began to slither, its scales rubbing on her nipples, its cool body slipping over her like water, moving away from her, toward Fiona.
"Name your sacrifice," Marie intoned, and her voice was no longer her own, but crackled with some power beyond either of them, her eyes bleached to white, her orgasm so close her stomach muscles fluttered.
"Joe," Fiona sobbed, "I give Joe; I give love."
"It is good you qualified, Fiona Goode," said not-Marie through Marie's mouth, the voice clanging like brass bells. "Joe would not have been enough."
Marie's fingernails raked Fiona's skin along where the glyph had been drawn, bringing fresh blood to the surface. The snake struck, latching onto Fiona's breast with a force that made the woman come harder than she ever had, the pain searing through every nerve ending in her body, her muscles going to taut they screamed, whiteness exploding behind her eyes.
Marie came the second the snake fully left her body, the god-presence leaving her just as her orgasm began, and she trembled and swore through it, not completely noticing when Fiona Goode fell from her grasp, hitting the floor hard and unconscious.
When the voodoo queen finally recovered, she found herself sitting on the floor, naked, back pressed against the wall, head in her hands. Daylight was peeking through the window of her sitting room. Fiona Goode was still dead to the world on the floor. The Burmese python had turned ghostly white at the end of the ritual, and was curled protectively on the Supreme's stomach. The glyphs had faded into scars. Marie stood wearily and stumbled over closer to the other naked woman, admiring the way her pale form draped across the wooden floor.
Several snakebites and an uncomfortable car ride later, Marie stood on the steps of Miss Robichaux's academy, waiting impatiently for one of the idiot girls to come answer her knock. She held Fiona tightly against her body, more or less upright, and had covered the older woman's modesty in a black cloak and white snake, and her own in wide-legged pants and a red leather jacket.
Cordelia opened the door. Marie thrust Fiona at her without a greeting. The younger woman caught her mother on reflex, horror shooting over her face as the snake flicked its tongue in greeting.
"Take her to bed," said Marie, not requesting entry to the house nor taking it when Cordelia offered by stepping aside. "She will sleep through three days and three nights. The snake does not leave her. If she wakens on the midnight beginning the fourth day, she will never die."
"What?" Cordelia's eyes were huge with worry and horror. Blood magic. "And if she doesn't?"
"May a lost god damballah rest or save us against the murders we intend against his lost white children." Marie shrugged. "If she doesn't, it will be no fault of mine. Bury her with the snake and don't come knocking on my door no more."
And Marie Laveau, voodoo queen, left Fiona Goode either dying or immortal in the arms of a daughter whose name she had given up to Damballah, never to recall.