Chapter 6: Hinata's First Taste of Miles
The portal spat them out onto cold stone.
Gwen hit the ground hard, her palms scraping against rough-hewn rock. The air was different here—thicker, older, carrying the scent of pine and woodsmoke and something she couldn't name. Above her, the sky was a deep bruised purple, stars she didn't recognize scattered across it like broken glass.
Helen landed beside her with a grunt. Miles stood over them both, his silhouette sharp against the strange constellations.
"Where the hell are we?" Gwen asked.
Miles didn't answer. He was looking at something in the distance—a sprawling complex of buildings that rose from the forest like a sleeping beast. Wooden structures. Tiled roofs. Walls that seemed to hum with an energy Gwen could feel in her teeth.
"The Hidden Leaf," Miles said. "Welcome to Konoha."
Gwen pushed herself to her feet. Her body ached from the drive, from the week, from everything. "Why are we here?"
Miles turned to her. His smile was a blade.
"Because I want to show you something."
---
They moved through the forest like ghosts.
Miles led them along a path that wound between ancient trees, their trunks thicker than cars. The compound grew closer with every step—a walled estate with gates that stood open, as if no one here had ever considered the possibility of intrusion.
Gwen's spider-sense hummed low in her skull. Not danger. Something else. Something wrong.
"Whose place is this?" Helen asked.
"The Hyūga," Miles said. "One of the founding clans. They've been here for centuries. Intermarried, interbred, kept their bloodline pure." He glanced back at Gwen. "You're going to appreciate this."
They slipped through the gates. The courtyard beyond was empty—a garden of carefully raked gravel and stone lanterns, a koi pond that reflected the strange stars. Beyond it, a traditional house with sliding paper doors and a veranda that wrapped around the entire structure.
Miles stopped at the edge of the garden.
"Wait here," he said. "Watch."
He walked toward the house. His footsteps made no sound on the gravel.
Gwen crouched behind a hedge, Helen beside her. Through the gaps in the leaves, she could see everything.
The door slid open.
A woman stepped out.
She was small—petite in a way that made Gwen think of porcelain dolls. Long dark hair, almost blue in the moonlight. Pale eyes that seemed to glow. She wore a lavender kimono, simple and elegant.
Hinata Hyūga.
She looked at Miles with confusion. Then fear. Then something else.
"Who are you?" Her voice was soft. Trembling.
Miles didn't answer. He just walked toward her.
"Where's Devon?" he asked.
Hinata's eyes widened. "How do you know my husband's name?"
"Answer the question."
"He's... he's training. In the yard. He always trains at night."
"Good."
Miles reached her. He didn't stop until he was inches away. Hinata had to crane her neck to look at him. She was so small, so fragile—a bird in a cage of her own making.
"You're beautiful," Miles said.
Hinata's breath caught.
"I—I don't—"
"You don't what?"
She tried to step back. He grabbed her wrist.
"Don't run," he said. "Don't scream. Don't do anything except exactly what I tell you."
Gwen watched from the shadows. Her heart was pounding. Not with fear—with something else. Something darker.
"Do you love your husband?" Miles asked.
"Yes," Hinata whispered. "I love him very much."
"Then why are you trembling?"
Hinata didn't answer.
Miles let go of her wrist. He reached up and touched her face—gently, almost tenderly. His thumb traced the line of her jaw.
"Your husband doesn't know what he has," he said. "He doesn't know how to touch you. How to use you. How to make you feel the way you deserve to feel."
"I—he—Devon is—"
"Devon is a boy." Miles's voice was low. Hypnotic. "He plays at being a man. He plays at being a husband. But he doesn't understand what you need. Does he?"
Hinata's eyes were wet. "He tries—"
"He tries." Miles laughed. "Trying isn't enough. Trying doesn't make you come. Trying doesn't make you scream. Trying doesn't fill that empty ache inside you that you've been carrying since the day you said 'I do.'"
Hinata made a sound. A small, broken thing.
"You don't know me," she said.
"I know enough."
---
Devon was in the yard below.
Gwen could see him through the trees—a patch of cleared earth, training posts, a wooden dummy wrapped in rope. He moved through a series of strikes, his form sloppy but determined. He'd never been a fighter. He'd never been anything except kind.
He didn't know.
He didn't know that Miles was in his house.
He didn't know that his wife was about to be taken apart.
Gwen's hands clenched into fists. She could stop this. She could web Miles up and drag him back through the portal. She could save this woman from what was about to happen.
She didn't move.
---
Miles pushed Hinata against the wall.
Her back hit the wood with a soft thud. She gasped. He was on her immediately—kissing her, hard and rough, his hands already working at the sash of her kimono.
"No," she breathed. "Please—"
"Shut up."
The sash fell. The kimono opened. Underneath, she wore nothing.
Her body was small and pale—small breasts, narrow hips, skin like milk. Miles looked at her like she was a meal.
"You've never been fucked properly," he said. "Have you?"
Hinata's face burned. "I—"
"Answer the question."
"No." The word was barely audible.
"Then get on your knees."
She didn't move.
Miles grabbed her hair and forced her down. Hinata cried out, her knees hitting the wooden floor with a crack. He undid his pants and his cock sprang free—long, thick, already hard.
"You see that?" he asked. "You're going to suck it. And you're going to like it."
Hinata stared at his cock. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth was open.
"I don't—I've never—"
"Then learn."
He grabbed her head and pushed her mouth onto him.
Hinata gagged. Her hands flew up to his thighs, trying to push him away. Miles didn't let her.
Miles didn't let her.
His grip on her hair tightened, fingers twisting into the dark strands, and he drove himself deeper into her throat. Hinata's eyes watered, her Byakugan veins bulging at her temples as she gagged around him. Spit ran down her chin in thick ropes, dripping onto her bare breasts, and she made a sound that was half-choke, half-moan.
"That's it," Miles said. "Take it all the way down. Don't fight it."
She tried to pull back. He held her in place. Her throat convulsed around his cock, muscles spasming, and for a moment Gwen thought she would vomit. Then something shifted—something in Hinata's posture, something in her eyes. The resistance melted. Her hands, which had been pushing against his thighs, went slack. Then they moved. They came up and gripped his ass, pulling him closer.
Miles laughed. Low and dark.
"See?" he said. "I knew you had it in you."
Hinata's eyes fluttered closed. She was still gagging, still drooling, but she was also—Gwen could barely believe it—moaning. The sounds vibrated around Miles's cock, and he groaned in response, his head falling back.
"Fuck," he breathed. "That's right. Good girl. Suck that dick like you mean it."
She did.
Her head bobbed faster. Her tongue worked along the underside of his shaft. She sucked him like she'd been doing it for years—like Devon had never existed, like her marriage was a fever dream she was finally waking from.
Gwen watched from the shadows. Her body was burning. Her cunt was wet, soaking through her underwear, and she hadn't even been touched. Beside her, Helen was breathing hard, her hand creeping between her own legs.
"Look at her," Helen whispered. "She's already gone."
---
Miles pulled out of Hinata's mouth with a wet pop.
She gasped for air, her chest heaving, her lips swollen and shiny with spit. She looked up at him with those pale eyes—no longer afraid, no longer confused. Just hungry.
"Stand up," he said.
She stood.
Her kimono hung open, revealing everything. Miles looked at her like she was a prize he'd won. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her like she weighed nothing, pinning her against the wall. Her legs wrapped around his hips automatically, her arms around his neck.
"You want this?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Say it."
"I want this. I want you. Please—"
He pushed inside her.
Hinata screamed.
Not a cry of pain—a cry of revelation. Her back arched against the wall, her nails digging into his shoulders, her mouth wide open as Miles buried himself to the hilt. He was bigger than Devon. Thicker. Longer. He filled her in ways she hadn't known she could be filled.
"Oh god," she gasped. "Oh god, oh god, oh god—"
"Shut up," Miles said. "Just feel it."
He started moving.
Slow at first. Deliberate. Every stroke was a statement—a claim, a conquest. Hinata's eyes rolled back. Her mouth hung open. She made sounds that weren't words, just raw animal noises that echoed through the empty house.
"How does that feel?" Miles asked.
"Good. So good. Better than—"
"Better than what?"
She hesitated. He fucked her harder.
"Better than what?" he repeated.
"Better than Devon. Better than my husband. Better than anyone."
Gwen's stomach clenched.
She knew that feeling. She'd said those words herself, in another bedroom, under another man. She'd betrayed her own husband the same way, and she'd loved every second of it. Watching Hinata fall apart was like watching herself in a mirror—beautiful, ugly, and utterly damning.
---
Devon was still training.
Gwen could see him through the gap in the trees—striking the wooden dummy, practicing his forms, completely oblivious to what was happening thirty feet away. He was wearing the same clothes he'd worn when he left the apartment. The same clothes he'd worn when he walked out on her.
He looked peaceful. Content. Like a man who believed his life was in order.
He didn't know.
He didn't know that his wife was being fucked against the wall by a man she'd met five minutes ago. He didn't know that she was screaming, that she was clawing at Miles's back, that she was coming harder than she'd ever come in her life.
He didn't know anything.
Miles fucked Hinata through her orgasm. Then he flipped her around, bent her over a low table, and fucked her from behind. Her kimono fell to the floor. Her breasts pressed against the wood. She moaned like a whore, her hips meeting every thrust.
"Look at you," Miles said. "You're a natural."
"Please—"
"Please what?"
"Please don't stop. Please keep going. I'll do anything—"
"Anything?"
"Yes. Anything. Just don't stop."
He didn't stop.
He fucked her for twenty minutes—every position, every angle, every rhythm. He fucked her on the floor, on the veranda, against the wall again. He made her suck him again. He made her lick his balls. He made her beg for it, and she did, over and over, her voice hoarse and broken.
When he finally came, it was inside her.
She screamed again. Her body convulsed. She collapsed onto the floor, twitching, her eyes blank and glassy.
Miles stood over her. His cock was still hard, still dripping with her juices. He looked at her like an artist looks at a finished painting.
"You're mine now," he said.
Hinata didn't argue. She just nodded.
"I'm yours."
---
Gwen stepped out of the shadows.
She didn't know why. She didn't have a plan. She just couldn't watch anymore without being seen. Helen followed her, silent and watchful.
Miles turned. His smile was the same one he'd worn when he caught her watching.
"Enjoy the show?" he asked.
Gwen didn't answer. She looked at Hinata—naked, ruined, lying on the floor of her own home. The woman's eyes were closed. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. She looked like she was sleeping.
"What did you do to her?" Gwen asked.
"What she needed." Miles walked toward her. "What every woman needs. What you needed, the first time I fucked you."
Gwen's jaw tightened. "She's married. She has a husband."
"So do you." Miles stopped in front of her. "And we both know how much that matters."
Gwen didn't answer.
"You're bothered," Miles said. "Not because I fucked her. Because you liked watching."
"That's not—"
"It is." He reached out and touched her face. His fingers were still wet with Hinata's spit. "You're just like her. You're just like your mother. You're a woman who needs to be taken. Used. Owned. And you hate yourself for it."
Gwen's eyes burned. "Shut up."
"But you can't stop. You keep coming back. You keep bringing toys. You keep letting me fuck you in front of your husband—in front of strangers—in front of cameras. And you love every second."
"Stop."
"You're mine too," Miles said. "You just haven't admitted it yet."
Gwen's hand moved before she could think. She slapped him—hard, across the face, with enough force to turn his head.
Miles didn't flinch. He just laughed.
"There she is," he said. "There's the fire. I was wondering where it went."
---
Hinata stirred on the floor.
She pushed herself up slowly, her arms trembling. Her kimono was tangled around one leg. Her hair was a disaster. Her face was streaked with tears and spit and come.
But her eyes were clear.
"What—" Her voice cracked. She looked around the room, at Gwen, at Helen, at Miles. "What happened?"
Miles crouched beside her. He touched her chin. She didn't pull away.
"You had the best sex of your life," he said. "And you're going to remember it every time your husband touches you. You're going to compare. And he's going to lose."
Hinata's eyes filled with tears. "I love him."
"I know." Miles stood. "But you love this more."
He walked to Gwen. He put a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to pull away. She didn't.
"Let's go," he said. "We're done here."
"Wait." Hinata's voice was small. "Please. Don't go."
Miles looked back at her. "Why?"
"Because—" She swallowed. "Because I don't want to be alone."
"You're not alone. You have your husband."
"He doesn't—" She stopped. Swallowed again. "He doesn't know me. He never did."
Gwen felt something crack inside her chest.
She thought about Devon. About the way he'd looked at her when they first met. About the way he'd proposed, on a rooftop in Queens, with the city spread out below them like a promise. About the way he'd cried at their wedding—not because he was sad, but because he couldn't believe something so good had happened to him.
She thought about the way he'd looked at her in Marcus's living room. The way his face had crumpled. The way he'd walked out the door.
Stay, she wanted to tell Hinata. Stay with your husband. Love him while you can. Before it's too late.
The words didn't come.
Instead, she watched Miles step back into the room. She watched him crouch down and take Hinata's face in both hands. She watched him kiss her—slow, deep, possessive.
"Give me your phone," he said.
Hinata blinked. "What?"
"Your phone. I'm putting my number in it. You're going to call me when you're ready to leave him. And you are going to leave him."
"I can't—"
"You can. You will. Because you're mine now."
He pulled a phone from his pocket—not his, but hers, sitting on a side table. He typed something into it. Then he pressed it back into her hands.
"Be good," he said. "Don't make me come back here."
Hinata stared at the phone. Her hands were shaking.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay."
---
They walked back through the forest in silence.
The portal was where Miles had left it—a shimmering tear in the air, hovering between two trees. Gwen could see the city through it.