Tomai feels like one of those messy horny summers you remember wrong on purpose. You’ve got this cocky little guy who thinks he’s hot shit in his tiny village, tossing himself between hanging out with his chill monster dad, this weirdly intense Lady who clearly knows more than she says, and two best friends who are so obviously fuck material it almost hurts. The whole thing plays out over a handful of days before the Night Festival, but it never feels rushed. You’re bouncing between lazy lakeside afternoons, drunk laughing in someone’s cramped-ass bedroom, smoking under trees while everyone pretends they’re “just friends,” and then suddenly you’re in the middle of some soft-core emotional chaos where somebody’s hand is exactly where it shouldn’t be. It’s not porn that jumps at you in the first second. It’s that slow-build kind of erotic, like when you’re on Discord at midnight, typing dumb jokes, and the chat suddenly shifts into “ok but what if we actually kissed though” energy.

The sex doesn’t feel like some porn studio script. It’s clumsy sometimes, sweet sometimes, occasionally too much and you’re like ok, calm down, you are still children of the forest or whatever. The boys especially, Burdoc and Malik, they’ve got that idiot-friends-who-accidentally-make-out vibe. One minute they’re teasing Tomai about being “a big deal” and the next you’re watching them pin him down on the grass, fingers on his waist, breath way too close, and you feel that little lurch of “oh shit, they might actually go all the way.” When it gets explicit, it leans into bodies, sweat, little sounds, the awkwardness of someone not sure where to put their hands, the shock when a tongue goes lower than expected. It is horny, but not factory-produced horny. More like walking home from a date, replaying every time their thigh brushed yours, except here you do get to see what happens when someone finally snaps and says fuck it, come here. There is also this whole quiet queer thing going on, like everyone is way too chill with how flexible their attraction is, but not in a fake woke way. More like: “yeah, I want to ride my best friend and maybe also worship this terrifying goddess and ask my dad why he looks so hot in that robe” kind of way. Feels relatable if you ever had a crush on three people at the same party.

What surprised me is how intimate the small stuff is. Like you’ll spend a day just fishing with Father, the sun low, water slow, the conversation circling around growing up and expectations, and suddenly your brain jumps to those nights where you open Twitter to check memes and end up doomscrolling queer threads about “found family” and “polycules that actually work.” The game quietly says: yeah, you can love more than one person, you can want more than one body, and it doesn’t have to blow up in drama every time. Sex here fits inside that mood. Sometimes it’s comforting, almost like aftercare before the actual care. Sometimes it’s a horny mistake that still feels good. The festival becomes this excuse for everyone to push past what they usually pretend in public. You get that mood of: are we still just joking or is your hand staying on my thigh a little too long on purpose. It’s not polished, some scenes feel a bit rough, like a fanfic draft your friend sends you on Telegram at 2 in the afternoon, but that roughness actually fits. There are dick jokes beside serious talks about futures, kisses that turn into grinding, a lazy afternoon that becomes a threesome if you play it right. It’s queer, a bit shameless, sometimes soft, sometimes filthy, like puberty plus magic plus “I saw this on Pornhub and wanna try.” Not subtle, not clinical, just horny kids on the edge of adult life, pretending they’re in control while their bodies and hearts absolutely are not.