The sheer sense of desperation he could feel coming from his bond-mate in veritable waves was enough to make Skyfire ache in a desperate way he'd never before known. Guilt nearly consumed him as the very real proof of what his absence had meant for Starscream reared up and refused to be ignored. Yet as violent as the kiss had become, he would not respond with the same ferocity. He couldn't. How could he willingly hurt him, knowingly inflict any sort of pain on him? It would be akin to causing himself damage, even worse in a great many ways.
So rather than respond with violence, he instead raised both hands to gently cup Starscream's face and took control of the kiss without exerting any sort of dominance. His response was softer, almost feather-light, tongue experimentally sweeping out and into the other man's mouth, tasting him in a way he could never have hoped to do in their true forms. That alone sent a thrill of pleasure that seemed to surge through his entire body, causing him to want more and creating a growing sense of urgency.
But not violence.
Skyfire wasn't certain what Starscream had been through these past billion or so years. He had no concept of what the war entailed, or how deeply it had affected him. What he did know, though, what he was starting to realize bit by bit and was eventually going to have to accept, was the simple fact that it had affected him and the only way he could hope to get him fully back to the way he was - if that was even still possible, although Skyfire refused to believe otherwise - was to remain as calm and steady as he'd always been. Logical, yet feeling. Gentle, yet determined. Because it was truly beginning to seem as though his bond-mate now associated affection with violence and, while Skyfire could become violent if the situation called for it, he could never do so toward Starscream.