Kiss me, Yonehara doesn't even put it into words and he doesn't even have to. This isn't the first time and it's not going to be the last time either. Kamakari knows that because he knows Yonehara, knows that this is how he works, just the right balance of needy and adorable that makes Kamakari want to push him up against something and well—kiss him.
He knew to expect it here, but that doesn't change the fact that for a split second, Kamakari's world narrows down to nothing but Yonehara's lips. His mouth is dry, he thinks he swallows. He can't look away. He doesn't want to.
It feels magnetic. There's a force that pulls his lips to Yonehara's, time and time again. It's easier when he stops resisting, and when he's given a chance like this, he's going to take it.
Yonehara still has his eyes closed, his face turned to offer up his cheek.
Like he doesn't know what Kamakari is about to do.
The press of their lips together is something soft and familiar. It makes Kamakari think of late nights at rehearsal, of photoshoots, of stolen moments in their apartments. Yonehara feigns surprise well enough and Kamakari blinks his eyes open slowly, his attention still laser-focused on Yonehara and his lips, and thinks that maybe he should have used tongue, for a bit of genuine surprise.
When he declares that there'll be tongue at the evening show, he doesn't know if it's a promise or a threat. He watches the way Yonehara touches his fingers to his lips, like he always does when they kiss, and the hazy look in his eyes like he can't figure out whether it's something to look forward to, or dread.
Then, Yonehara blinks and it's gone, his attention slipping from Kamakari and back to the show, like the receding waves of a low tide. Kamakari lets it go. There's a time and a place, and it's not right here, right now.
He's almost disappointed when Yonehara beats him to it.
Almost. There's something to be said about the way Yonehara crowds into his space, five foot four and still somehow able to make Kamakari feel rooted to the spot. Perhaps that's just because he doesn't want to be anywhere else, not with the way Yonehara's looking at him, lips caught somewhere between a smile and a pout like he can't decide exactly which expression he wants to wear and either way, Kamakari wants to kiss it off his face.
Yonehara's fingers are gentle as they take hold of Kamakari's chin. Not tentative—this is too familiar for that—but just the barest brush of skin on skin until Kamakari leans into it, and there's that magnetic pull all over again except this time, they're not on a stage, they don't have an audience, and Kamakari is saying, kiss me, Kou-chan, with everything but his voice.
Somehow, Kamakari is still surprised by the tongue. He jerks back, feels Yonehara laugh against his mouth, giddy and pleased with himself.
"Bastard," Kamakari mutters, hopelessly fond, and leans back in for another kiss.
He's better prepared this time, his lips parting against Yonehara's. They can keep up with each other this time and suddenly, Kamakari understands why Yonehara wanted to do this after earlier today and before tonight's show. It's better when they don't have a show to immediately focus on, when they can take their time. Kamakari can reacquaint himself with the taste of Yonehara's mouth because it's been too long since they've last done this and Yonehara must have known what he was doing, when he settled on the theme of his show, when he decided that he wasn't going to let Kamakari off the stage without a kiss first.
That's just Yonehara through and through: a troublemaker, and Kamakari likes it too much to pretend otherwise. There's no point, when he knows he isn't going to be fooling either of them anyway.
"You couldn't wait, huh?" Kamakari asks, licking his lips. He's going to be thinking about the way Yonehara tastes for days, but he knew that already. "I was gonna kiss you tonight."
"Now you can kiss me again," Yonehara grins, and pecks Kamakari on the lips. "And again."
That's the Yonehara that Kamakari knows and loves: greedy and demanding and so very difficult to say no to. Kamakari's resigned himself to the fact that if he hasn't learned how to yet, his chances aren't looking very good.
"Kenken," Yonehara prompts, tapping his lips, because Kamakari's gotten lost in his thoughts, thinking about kissing Yonehara instead of actually kissing him.
"You're hopeless," he grumbles, and he directs it at both of them before he leans in to kiss Yonehara again.
When Kamakari is on stage that evening, he's ready for the way Yonehara stops him before he leaves, shutting his eyes and tapping his cheek, like he doesn't know exactly what's about to happen.
This one's for the audience, though, and Kamakari still enjoys the way it surprises them, even if Yonehara's ready for it. There's just a split second where their tongues meet, subtle enough, angled away from the audience that there's plausible deniability, provided no one sees the way Yonehara grins, or the bashful downcast of his eyes like he's suddenly demure, instead of being the one to kiss Kamakari between shows.
Kamakari touches their foreheads together while the crowd screams, and he can feel Yonehara's laugh better than he can hear it.
Next time, he thinks to himself, he'll have to try biting Yonehara and see what happens next. He almost wants to say as much right then and there, but he figures it'll be more fun if he saves it for later, if he can still take Yonehara by surprise when he thinks he's got Kamakari all figured out.
He licks his lips, watches as Yonehara's eyes track the movement, and turns to walk off the stage. He knows he probably won't get his chance tonight, but that's okay. It'll be worth the wait.