As the days went on and Luke felt his Force connection with Leia growing, he reassured himself that he had everything completely under control. But he vacillated between pursuing this connection and running away from it. Should he continue to engage in his exploration, or should he try to fight it? He was learning something, he was sure of it-gaining insight into human connection and bonding of a kind he'd never experienced, and likely wouldn't if he followed the Jedi path.
And for all he knew, this was how the Jedi learned of such things. If it was necessary for them to understand all human life, but they themselves didn't engage in passionate relationships, how else could they gain that knowledge? On top of that, what Han and Leia didn't know couldn't hurt them.
But if they ever did find out...he would lose them both forever, he was sure of it. And he'd surely die of shame in any case. But was it really all his fault? After all, weren't Leia and Han the ones who'd insisted on changing everything: falling in love, getting tragically separated, and then, upon reuniting, elevating each other to the importance of sun, moon and stars? Loving each other so completely that in his eyes, they fairly glowed with it? How could he be the one responsible?
In fact, it felt to him as if he was the one being violated. When it was so barely under his control, how could he be at fault? Then again, how could it be their fault when they seemed so oblivious to it? Every time that Luke felt sure they must notice his presence within their sphere, they ended up showing complete ignorance. He'd thought Leia so strong in the Force, too. Had he been wrong about that? Or was she so focused on Han, on the pleasure they shared, that she was blind to something she'd usually perceive? He didn't know. He didn't know anything-that was the point. He had to pursue this if he was going to gain any wisdom.
And what if this kind of invasive contact was just the nature of the Force? Was he supposed to become a hermit? Sure, the only Jedi he'd ever known had been, but that was because of the Jedi Purge. During the Republic the Jedi lived among all kinds of people, and must either not have been tortured by sexual Force visions, or not been troubled by them. Was this just another trial of the Jedi Path? His rank ignorance, the paucity of answers, and plain sexual frustration, left Luke wanting to tear out his hair.
Maybe there was no way to stop it but to simply go through it. It seemed to him, finally, that it didn't matter whether he tried to strengthen the connection or sever it. The result was the same: he ended up mired in the energy created by Leia and Han's bond, without the knowledge of the Force to make sense of it.
So on the day that Luke finally cracked, he hadn't been trying particularly hard to block his Force sense around Leia and Han. A certain fatalism had come over him. He had begun to think of this strange phenomenon as an uncomfortable Force side effect, and he wasn't prepared for the Force to up the ante on him as it did.
They were on the Falcon, safely in her hangar on H1. It was a rare lazy afternoon and they'd decided to hang around and do some chores on the ship that didn't require strict sobriety. Chewie was doing some re-wiring in the cockpit, and Luke was supposed to be searching for more grounded cabling in the subholds. This was a job that could easily have taken an hour, which must have been why Leia and Han had thought they had a modicum of privacy in the crew lounge.
The thing was, though, that as soon as he'd opened up the first subhold he realized he needed to ask Chewie something, so he came back to the lounge on his way to the cockpit not ten minutes after he'd left. All things considered, Luke later reflected bitterly, he was lucky they weren't making the bantha with two backs on the holochess table. But it was quite bad enough as it was. He popped his head through the hatch and saw Han and Leia. They were still sitting on the lounge, their voices low and uncomfortably tender. He couldn't make out the words, but it sounded like they were still discussing repairs, only now in these undeniable bedroom voices, while Leia wove Han's fingers between her own.
He stood there for less than a second before backing quickly into the passage again and pressing himself against the wall. While he tried to figure out whether to forge ahead or retreat, a low, masculine laugh drew him to look through the hatch again. That turned out to be a mistake.
Now, Leia was sitting astride his best friend, kissing him at leisure, for all the world as if there was no risk of interruption. The sight seared Luke from head to groin, and this time when he retreated to the passage, his sense of Han and Leia came with him. He couldn't see them now, but he didn't need to anymore. He didn't need to see them because now he was them.
Leia made a small sound, as light as air, but as soon as he heard it Luke knew the feel of Han's tongue pressing against hers, how it felt when she rolled her hips against the rising in his pants. This was a power and an immediacy that Luke had never felt. He slammed his hands to his face, desperately wrenching himself away from Leia's consciousness, only to find himself in arguably deeper water. Because now he could feel the sweet curve of waist and hips, and soft hair on his lips and nose. Stars above, he could sense both of them now. To his equal horror and fascination, Luke could smell her-the same scent he'd always known, but endowed with an intimate knowledge of each component part: cleanser, lotion, scent; throat, armpits, breasts...He wrenched himself away from that litany only to return to the feeling of warm flesh in his hands, so pliant and strong. Gods, she was so small-with hands on her waist (but were they his or Han's?), it was easy to brush the sides of her breasts with his thumbs. Luke didn't know if the shiver that went through him came from himself, or Leia, or Han. It was getting hard to tell the difference, as he felt a painful arousal in his own body, threatening to swamp him.
For the first time, Luke truly realized the violation he was committing, and felt the appropriate level of horror at what he was doing, however unwittingly. He knew that he had to get away-now-far away, for as long as it took him to figure this out. As he stumbled down the Falcon's ramp, he only hoped he could get away before anything like this happened again, or something even worse. But gods, how much worse could it get?
That's it for this time, folks. Do you think Luke is right? It can't get any more hot/disturbing than this, surely! Tune in to find out :-). And happy reading: there's lots of great fit out there!