Lawine | Frieren: Beyond Journey's End - Gallery

The air in Lawine’s modest, yet meticulously kept, study was thick with the scent of old parchment and blooming night jasmine that crept in through the slightly ajar window. Lamplight, warm and honeyed, cast long, dancing shadows across the room, illuminating the fine dust motes that swirled like tiny stars. Lawine, a scholar known for her sharp intellect and even sharper tongue, found herself in an unusual state of quiet contemplation. The late hour had chased away most of her usual clients, leaving her in the hushed company of her own thoughts and the comforting weight of a freshly brewed mug of chamomile tea cradled in her hands. Her sapphire blue eyes, usually alight with intellectual fire, were softened, reflecting the flickering candlelight as she gazed out at the star-dusted sky.

Tonight, however, her thoughts weren't on ancient runes or forgotten histories. They were, rather inconveniently, fixated on the memory of the young mage who had visited earlier that afternoon. A mage, barely an adult by elven standards, but possessing a raw, untamed power that had both intrigued and… unsettled her. His earnestness, the way his own bright blue eyes had pleaded for understanding, and the slight flush that had bloomed on his cheeks when she’d chided him for a particularly egregious grammatical error. There was an innocence there, a vulnerability, that was both disarming and, to her surprise, profoundly attractive. She found herself replaying the gentle tremor in his voice as he'd apologized, the way his slender fingers had nervously twisted the hem of his robe.

Lawine took a slow sip of her tea, the warmth spreading through her, a stark contrast to the cool, creeping ache that had settled somewhere deep within her chest. It wasn’t a pain, not precisely, but a… yearning. A desire for something more than the dry satisfaction of academic pursuits. She traced the rim of her mug, her mind conjuring images of that mage’s youthful face, the slight curve of his lips when he’d finally grasped a difficult concept, the way his dark hair had fallen across his forehead. She confessed to herself, in the privacy of her own study, that she had enjoyed his presence more than she would ever admit aloud. There was a spark, a nascent potential that she found herself inexplicably drawn to. She adjusted the silken robe that was draped over her shoulders, its soft fabric whispering against her skin. It was a comfortable garment, but tonight it felt strangely insufficient, lacking the weight of something… else. Something more substantial.

The night was still young, and the city outside was beginning to settle into its nocturnal slumber, but Lawine found no peace. Her thoughts, like restless spirits, continued to swirl, revisiting the mage’s earnest gaze, the soft cadence of his voice. She found herself wondering about his hands, his touch. She ran a hand over the smooth wood of her desk, imagining the feel of youthful skin beneath her fingertips. It was a dangerous path her mind was treading, a departure from her usual measured demeanor. She was a woman of intellect, of discipline, not prone to such… fanciful notions. Yet, the memory of his youthful exuberance, the way he had looked at her with such unadulterated respect, had ignited a ember within her that she hadn’t realized was dormant. She sighed, a soft, breathy sound that was swallowed by the quiet room. Perhaps a walk in the moonlight would clear her head. Or perhaps, she mused with a flicker of wicked curiosity, it would only serve to fan the flames.

She rose, her movements fluid and graceful. The lamplight caught the shimmering threads of her robe, accentuating the gentle swell of her breasts. Lawine wasn’t a vain woman, but she was acutely aware of her own presence, of the subtle power that emanated from her mature femininity. She walked towards her dressing area, the floorboards creaking faintly beneath her slippers. She needed to change, to put on something that felt less… academic. Something that felt more like the woman she truly was, beneath the layers of scholarly pretense. Her gaze fell upon a collection of garments, kept carefully stored and rarely worn. Among them, a pair of sheer, midnight-blue stockings. They were an extravagance, a indulgence, but tonight they felt… appropriate. She reached for them, her fingers brushing against the delicate material. The thought of them clinging to her legs, a subtle invitation, sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

As she carefully pulled on the stockings, she felt a subtle shift within herself. The nylon, impossibly smooth, caressed her skin, tracing the elegant curve of her calves, the gentle swell of her thighs. She watched her reflection in the polished surface of an antique mirror, her blue eyes gleaming with a newfound intensity. The stockings were more than just an accessory; they were a declaration, a silent whispered promise. She then turned her attention to her undergarments, her fingers finding the delicate lace of a pair of matching blue panties. They were simple, yet exquisitely made, designed to accentuate rather than conceal. The material was thin, almost translucent, and she reveled in the sensation of it against her skin, a constant, tantalizing reminder of what lay beneath.

The thought of the young mage returned with renewed vigor. She imagined his reaction, his surprise, if he were to see her like this. The idea sent a thrilling warmth through her, a flush that she didn't try to suppress. She moved with a deliberate sensuality as she slipped out of her study, the soft fabric of her robe the only thing separating her from the cool night air. She found herself drawn, as if by an invisible thread, towards the bustling marketplace, still alive with the lingering energy of the day. She walked with a measured pace, her movements understated yet undeniably captivating. Her stockings, a subtle flash of blue beneath her robe, seemed to draw the eyes of those she passed, though she paid them no mind. Her focus was singular, her destination unspoken. She was seeking, not a specific place, but a specific feeling, a confirmation of the stirrings that had begun within her.

And then, she saw him. He was sitting at a quiet stall, nursing a mug of what looked like watered-down ale, his brow furrowed in concentration as he read from a worn tome. The same dark hair, the same earnest expression. He looked so young, so earnest, and so… vulnerable. Lawine’s heart gave an unexpected lurch. She took a deep breath, the scent of roasted nuts and evening dew filling her lungs. She approached him slowly, her steps deliberate, her robe rustling softly with each movement. He looked up as she neared, his blue eyes widening in surprise, then recognition, then something else entirely – a spark of awe, a flicker of apprehension, and a undeniable surge of raw desire. The faint blush returned to his cheeks, more pronounced this time, and Lawine felt a thrill of triumph.

“Lost in thought, young mage?” Lawine’s voice was a low purr, laced with a hint of amusement. She stopped beside his table, her presence commanding, her blue eyes locking with his. She leaned slightly forward, her robe parting just enough to reveal the silken shimmer of her stockings. His gaze, involuntarily, flickered downwards, then quickly back up to her face, his breath catching in his throat. He stammered, “M-Master Lawine! I… I was just reviewing some notes.”

“Notes,” Lawine repeated, a slow smile gracing her lips. She sat down opposite him, her movements exuding a confidence that was both alluring and intimidating. She noticed the slight tremor in his hands as he put his book down. “Perhaps I can be of assistance. Sometimes, a fresh perspective is all that is needed.” She let her gaze linger on his face, on the way his eyes, so similar to her own, held a mixture of fascination and fear. She knew, with a certainty that was both intoxicating and a little frightening, that she had him hooked. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, a silent acknowledgment of the burgeoning desire that neither of them could deny any longer.

He cleared his throat, his voice a little shaky. “I… I wouldn’t want to impose, Master Lawine.”

“Impose?” Lawine’s smile widened, revealing a flash of white teeth. “My dear boy, you are a guest in this city, and I am always happy to offer guidance to those who seek it. Especially those with such… potential.” She let her hand rest on the table, her fingers deliberately brushing against his as she reached for his abandoned mug. The brief contact sent a jolt through him, and Lawine felt it, a subtle tightening of his muscles, a quickening of his pulse. She met his gaze, her blue eyes holding his captive. “And I sense a great deal of potential in you,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a husky whisper.

He swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on her face. The marketplace sounds seemed to fade into a dull hum, the world narrowing to just the two of them. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the subtle, intoxicating perfume that clung to her. He noticed the delicate curve of her collarbone, the way the lamplight caught the faint dusting of freckles on her skin. He was mesmerized, drawn into her orbit like a moth to a flame. The innocent admiration he had felt earlier had morphed into something far more potent, a raw, undeniable lust that made his entire body thrum.

Lawine, sensing his internal struggle, leaned closer, her voice a silken caress. “Tell me, young mage. What is it that you truly seek?” Her blue eyes, so deep and alluring, seemed to probe his very soul. He looked at her, at the alluring curve of her lips, the subtle invitation in her gaze, and the unspoken desire that thrummed between them. He knew, with a certainty that bypassed all reason, that he wanted her. He wanted her in a way he had never wanted anyone before. His heart pounded against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, a tell-tale sign of his arousal.

“I… I seek knowledge,” he finally managed, his voice hoarse. “And… and understanding.”

“Knowledge,” Lawine echoed, her smile playing on her lips. She reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the back of his hand. His skin was warm, smooth, and Lawine felt a wave of possessiveness wash over her. “And understanding,” she continued, her gaze never leaving his. “Sometimes, the deepest understanding comes not from books, but from… experience.” She let her fingers trail up his arm, her touch sending shivers down his spine. He flinched, then relaxed, surrendering to her touch, his eyes closing briefly. The faint scent of jasmine, now mingled with the fainter, more alluring scent of her skin, enveloped him. He found himself leaning into her touch, his own hand reaching out, almost unconsciously, to brush against the silken fabric of her robe.

Lawine chuckled softly, a low, throaty sound that sent a tremor through him. “You are a curious one, aren’t you?” she murmured. She let her hand drift downwards, her fingers tracing the outline of her own thigh, deliberately allowing him to see the subtle movement of the sheer stocking beneath her robe. His eyes widened, and he sucked in a sharp breath. The unspoken invitation was clear, and he found himself utterly captivated. He felt a heat pool in his lower belly, a tightening in his groin. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to feel the texture of that stocking against his fingertips, to explore the curves it hinted at.

“Perhaps,” Lawine continued, her voice a low murmur, “we could continue this… discussion… somewhere more private.” She rose from the table, her movements deliberate and alluring. She extended a hand towards him, her blue eyes sparkling with an invitation he couldn't refuse. He looked at her hand, then at her face, his heart hammering in his chest. He was aware of the hushed whispers of the marketplace, the curious glances of passersby, but it all seemed to fade into insignificance. He was consumed by her, by the promise of what lay beneath that alluring robe, beneath those tantalizing stockings. He placed his hand in hers, his fingers trembling slightly. Her grip was firm, surprisingly strong, and he felt a thrill of anticipation. As they walked away from the stall, her robe brushed against him, and he caught a fleeting glimpse of the delicate blue of her panties. His breath hitched, and he knew, with absolute certainty, that this night would be unlike any other.

Lawine led him back to her study, the familiar scent of parchment now tinged with the intoxicating aroma of her own perfume. She closed the door behind them, the click of the lock sounding like the final seal on a pact. The lamplight, softer now, cast a more intimate glow. She turned to face him, her blue eyes alight with a predatory gleam. She let her robe fall open, revealing the full extent of her allure. The sheer blue stockings clung to her legs, a delicate web of silk that emphasized the smooth, pale skin of her thighs. Her breasts, full and ripe, strained against the thin lace of her bra, their tips already darkening in anticipation. He stood frozen, mesmerized, his gaze devouring every inch of her. His own arousal was a tangible thing, a pounding in his veins, a tightening in his groin.

“You seem… surprised,” Lawine murmured, her voice a low, husky purr. She took a step towards him, her hips swaying gently. “Is this not what you seek, young mage?” Her hand reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his chest, sending a jolt of electricity through him. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the slight roughness of her calloused fingertips. His own hand, almost of its own volition, reached out to her, his fingers tentatively tracing the curve of her jawline, then dipping lower, towards the delicate lace of her bra. He hesitated, his gaze flicking to her blue eyes, seeking permission. Lawine met his gaze, her pupils dilating slightly, and gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. He took it as an invitation.

His fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra, his nervousness a stark contrast to her serene confidence. When the garment finally gave way, her breasts were freed, swelling magnificently into the lamplight. They were ample, perfectly rounded, with rosy nipples that seemed to beckon his touch. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat. Lawine watched him, a slow smile spreading across her face. She reached up and cupped his chin, her thumb gently caressing his lower lip. “Go on,” she whispered, her voice a heady elixir. “Don’t be shy.”

He leaned forward, his lips tentatively brushing against her areola. The sensation was intoxicating, the softness of her skin, the faint, sweet scent that rose from her. He licked her gently, then more firmly, his tongue exploring the delicate curves. Lawine arched her back, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her hands tangled in his hair, her touch both guiding and encouraging. He found himself emboldened, his kisses growing more passionate, his tongue delving deeper into her breast. He suckled gently, then with more urgency, his mouth craving the taste of her, the feel of her yielding against him. Lawine’s breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers tightening their grip in his hair. The heat between them was palpable, a consuming inferno.

Lawine’s hand drifted lower, her fingers sliding beneath the waistband of her panties. He watched, captivated, as her fingers slowly explored her own wetness, her movements deliberate and sensual. He could see the subtle tremor that ran through her, the exquisite pleasure she was experiencing. Her blue eyes, still locked with his, were glazed with desire. She then turned her attention back to him, her gaze intense. “Now,” she purred, her voice raspy, “it is your turn.”

He looked down at himself, his arousal a throbbing ache. Lawine’s hand moved to his belt, her fingers expertly undoing the buckle. She unfastened his trousers, her touch sending shivers down his spine. His erection strained against the fabric, eager to be free. She slid his trousers down his legs, her gaze lingering on his hardened member. He felt a blush creep up his neck, but her appreciative gaze only fueled his desire. Lawine’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “My, my,” she whispered, her eyes appraising him. “You are certainly… well-endowed for your age.” Her hand reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his tip. He gasped, his knees feeling weak. The sensation was almost unbearable.

She knelt before him, her movements fluid and graceful. Lawine’s gaze remained fixed on his face, her blue eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and deep desire. Her hands, with a deliberate slowness, began to stroke him. Her touch was both firm and gentle, her fingers gliding over his shaft, teasing and tormenting. He moaned, his body arching instinctively. He watched her, mesmerized, as she explored him, her every movement calculated to heighten his pleasure. He felt himself trembling, on the precipice of something overwhelming. Lawine’s gaze never wavered, her eyes holding his captive, encouraging him to surrender. He could feel the moisture gathering at his tip, the building pressure within him. He bit his lip to suppress a groan. He was utterly at her mercy, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lawine’s hand continued its ministrations, her thumbs circling his head, her fingers stroking his length with increasing urgency. He could feel the friction, the delicious friction, and the pleasure was building, building, building. He was close, so close. He felt a tremor run through him, a pre-orgasmic wave of sensation. Lawine’s lips parted, and she began to lick him, her tongue tracing the sensitive veins that pulsed along his shaft. He gasped, his back arching off the floor as he tried to press himself deeper into her mouth. Her touch was exquisite, her tongue a skilled instrument of pleasure, coaxing him towards the edge.

“More,” he choked out, his voice a raw whisper. “Please, Lawine, more.”

Lawine, her eyes still locked with his, obliged. She took him deeper into her mouth, her throat working rhythmically. He felt an overwhelming surge of pleasure, a blinding wave that consumed him. He cried out, his body convulsing as he climaxed, his seed erupting in a hot, viscous torrent. Lawine continued to take him, her mouth swallowing his release, her body working in perfect rhythm. When it was over, he slumped against her, trembling and spent. Lawine slowly withdrew, her lips slick, her blue eyes shining with satisfaction. She licked her lips, a small, pleased smile playing on her mouth. She reached out and gently stroked his cheek, her touch soothing.

“Well done,” she murmured, her voice still husky. He looked at her, breathless and dazed, the lingering sensations coursing through him. He had never experienced anything like it. Lawine stood, her robe still open, revealing the full glory of her body. He admired the curves of her hips, the gentle swell of her belly, the smooth expanse of her skin. She was a masterpiece, and he felt a profound sense of awe and gratitude.

“Now,” Lawine purred, her voice laced with mischief, “it is my turn to receive understanding.” She took his hand, her fingers interlacing with his. She led him to a plush rug in front of the fireplace, the embers glowing warmly. She sat down, her blue eyes twinkling, and slowly, deliberately, reached for the silken fabric of her panties. He watched, his heart pounding, as she slid them down her legs, revealing her core to his eager gaze. Her pussy was a tantalizing sight, dark and lush, glistening with anticipation. He gasped, his arousal returning with a vengeance.

Lawine spread her legs slightly, inviting him closer. “Come, my young mage,” she whispered, her voice a siren’s call. “Show me what you have learned.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze locked on her wet core, then he knelt before her, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to touch her. Her skin was impossibly soft, her clit a tiny pearl of exquisite sensitivity. He began to lick her, tentatively at first, then with more confidence. Lawine arched her back, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Her fingers clawed at his hair, her body arching against his face. He felt her pleasure radiating outwards, and it fueled his own desire.

Lawine’s moans grew louder, more desperate. She was close, so close. She guided his mouth, her hips bucking against his lips, urging him to go deeper. He felt her body clench around his tongue, her pleasure overwhelming. She cried out his name, her climax washing over her in waves. He continued to pleasure her, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her body yielding to his touch. When her climax subsided, she lay back, breathless, her blue eyes gazing up at him with an expression of pure bliss. She reached out and pulled him closer, her lips meeting his in a deep, passionate kiss.

As their kiss deepened, Lawine’s hand reached towards a small, ornate box on a nearby table. She opened it, revealing a smooth, black object. A buttplug. Her eyes, filled with a playful glint, met his. “And now,” she whispered, her voice a heady mix of desire and mischief, “for a deeper understanding.” She then turned her attention to her own wetness, her fingers expertly applying a bit of lubricant. She took the buttplug, her hand steady, and began to ease it into her anus. He watched, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and intense arousal. Lawine let out a soft moan, a sound of exquisite pleasure as the smooth silicone slid into her. She then turned her gaze to him, a daring smile playing on her lips. “Are you ready?” she asked, her voice husky.

He nodded, unable to speak, his own arousal reaching a fever pitch. Lawine, still with the buttplug nestled inside her, shifted her position, straddling him. She lowered herself onto him, her movements slow and deliberate. He gasped as he felt himself sinking into her, the sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced. The buttplug, pressing against his prostate from within, sent waves of unfamiliar, yet incredibly potent, pleasure through him. Lawine moaned, her hips beginning to move in a slow, rhythmic dance. Her breasts swayed with her movements, their tips brushing against his chest. He reached up and cupped her ample breasts, marveling at their softness, their warmth. Lawine leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear. “This,” she whispered, her voice laced with ecstasy, “is true understanding.”

They moved together, their bodies intertwined, their breaths mingling. Lawine rode him with a masterful grace, her hips arching, her body responding to the added sensation of the buttplug. Each thrust sent tremors of pleasure through him, amplified by the internal pressure. He groaned, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her movements. Lawine’s blue eyes, clouded with passion, met his. She whispered words of encouragement, of praise, her voice a melodic counterpoint to their exertions. The lamplight cast a golden glow over them, illuminating the sweat glistening on their skin, the exquisite dance of their bodies. He felt himself nearing the edge again, the combination of her stroking, her riding, and the internal pressure pushing him towards an unprecedented climax.

Lawine let out a guttural cry, her body convulsing as she experienced another powerful orgasm, her movements becoming more frantic. He followed her, his own climax erupting in a blinding flash of pleasure, his seed spilling into her depths. They collapsed together, breathless and sated, their bodies slick with sweat. Lawine remained on top of him for a moment, her head resting on his chest, her breathing slowly returning to normal. The buttplug was still inside her, a tangible reminder of their shared intimacy. He gently stroked her hair, his heart filled with a profound sense of connection and wonder. He looked at her, his beautiful scholar, her blue eyes now soft and content, and knew that this was just the beginning of a deeper, more profound understanding.

As the first hints of dawn began to paint the sky in hues of rose and gold, Lawine and the young mage lay entwined, the remnants of their passionate night still clinging to them. The silken stockings and delicate panties were discarded on the floor, testaments to their shared journey into pleasure. Lawine, her blue eyes still holding a lingering glow, traced the curve of his jaw. “You have learned much tonight, young mage,” she murmured, her voice still husky with the echoes of their lovemaking. He met her gaze, a shy smile playing on his lips. “And you, Master Lawine,” he replied, his voice filled with a newfound confidence, “have taught me more than any book ever could.” Lawine chuckled, a warm, contented sound. She pulled him closer, burying her face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin, mingled with the lingering perfume of jasmine. The study, once a sanctuary of solitary thought, had become a crucible of shared passion, a testament to the unexpected depths of desire that could be found even in the most learned of souls. As the sun rose, it illuminated not just a room, but the dawn of a new, and deeply intimate, understanding between them.