Bolin knocked on Orom's door again after waiting a couple of seconds.
"Orom, I'm coming in! You better be decent!"
He knew that his cousin wouldn't really care if he caught him in his birthday suit, but he hoped that the other would at least get up from his bed. So, Bolin opened the door and walked in Orom's room.
For the son of a wealthy corporate businessman, his room didn't show that he was one. It was more simplistic in terms of design and didn't have any decor that was considered expensive. In fact, there was very FEW decor; just some drawers (one with a mirror), a giant television, and a king-sized bed at the end of the room with a nightstand on the side. There were a couple of items on top of the drawers that the president's son kept; like photos of friends and family, trophies of some self-defense tournaments he attended, and indoor plants. (He liked plants since he was but a boy.)
This was the only room in Orom's entire estate (his father wouldn't let him have anything less) that didn't have his father's personal touch of design. Walking through the building felt like he was at a high-class museum most of the time, which didn't fit the son at all.
And while normally Orom kept his room somewhat clean, what Bolin saw was definitely not that. Opened beer cans were placed both on the nightstand and the floor (mostly the floor), some even tipped over. A couple of containers from his favorite Italian joint were lying around, opened and mostly empty. Bolin knew that they were his cousin's comfort food, so the "heartbreak" he was dreading was more likely than not what caused him to order it. And where was said cousin? Wrapped underneath the blankets from head to toe, trying to hide from the world.
Bolin sighed in disappointment, hoping that he would get up by his own accord. Before he went to wake Orom, he made sure to pick up all the boxes and cans that were on the floor and placed them on top of any drawers that had space. (Half for cleanliness and half because he didn't want to step on anything.) Once he was satisfied, he loomed over his blanket-covered cousin who didn't so much as move an inch since he entered.
After giving another sigh, he grabbed the blanket and pulled as hard as he could, pulling it from the laying orc. A groan was given in response and Bolin looked down at his cousin who (thankfully) had some pajama shorts on at least. Along with an...excited body part that could rival a mountain.
Ignoring that, Bolin looked at Orin's face. He definitely took after his father; a chiseled jawline, thick eyebrows, a nose that was decently big yet not enough to be unappealing, and sharp tusks that could make any orc jealous. What made him stand out though was his shoulder-length straight black hair. Normally his hair looked similar to that of a male surfer model (with unnecessary wind flow and everything), but in that moment it looked just as messy as its owner.
Orom opened an eye to glare at the thief who stole his blanket, "I regret ever giving you a key to my place."
Bolin adjusted his tie from the suit (similar to the one he wore yesterday) he was wearing, "If you like, I could always pass the key to one of the men under your father. I'm sure he'd LOVE to have someone who would brief him more accurately on what his son is doing."
The glare deepened, "Maybe THEY would actually leave me alone when I want to be."
"Come now Orom, do you really believe that?"
The man in question just gave an exasperated sigh, "Fuck no. They're fucking worse than vultures."
Bolin chuckled lightly. President Orestes wasn't fond of Orom's actions involving romance. Especially when his track record was towards any guy that wasn't an orc.
It is well known that to continue the Orestes legacy, the next in line will have to be of the same race as the descendant. Ergo, Orom must marry an orc. He knew this, yet his type was the complete opposite of that. Not only has he fallen for elves before, but also humans, tieflings, and other races too as long as they were pretty looking. Because that's what he was into; the pretty boys. Which doesn't suit an orc at all. The president hasn't been known about that fact yet (though Bolin's certain he has an inkling). But when he does, because it IS only a matter of time, there will be a lot of chaos in the family.
Shaking the thought off, Bolin kicked the mattress Orom was lying on, "Come on, get up. You're wasting the day away."
Another groan escaped lying orc's lips as he dropped his head on his pillow, "Let me waste away with the day then. That's how I'm feeling, that's how I'll stay."
"How poetic. I thought you sucked at poetry."
"I'm motivated, can't you tell?"
"By the way you're just lying there like a dead dog, I'm not entirely convinced."
"Then you should get your eyes checked. I'm at my best when I'm miserable."
"I thought you were at your best when there is a hot twink with a fat ass in front of you."
Orom growled and finally lifted himself up from his bed. Before he could say (or from the expression he was showing, shout) anything, the bedroom doors opened loudly, making both orcs look towards it. They wondered who would just enter without knocking until they heard a familiar voice.
"That's right, it's me! Back and ready to attack! How are my tusk-wearing buddies doing!?"
Said buddies immediately knew who it was. They saw a dwarf with hair and beard dyed platinum blonde walking in with arms stretched up and with confidence. His beard was shorter compared to most other dwarves, but he had it nicely trimmed with a couple of braids. His hair was also braided, but also tied in a long ponytail that was waist length going down his back.
Both Orom and Bolin weren't surprised by his clothes. He wore an overly-complicated button up shirt that had way too many designs and pieces of fabric tied to it, along with pants that had strings on the side. His boots were even intricately designed and had a heel on them. The dwarf always wore whatever outfit he wanted, just to draw attention. Yet it somehow WORKED on him. His personality probably helped. Though he was skinner than your average dwarf as well.
He was Orom's closest friend, Eric.
The dwarf looked at both of the orcs until he laid eyes on Orom's state. Especially below the waist.
"Ho ho! Well, it looks like someone is doing just fine! Do I have to say hello to HIM too?" He said, pointing at the obvious tent.
Orom gave an unamused look before sitting up the bed and grabbing his tossed aside blanket to put it above his crotch.
"You and Bolin will be the death of me one day."
"Ho! Don't threaten me with a good time! Besides, my horoscope said that if any of us would go out first, it would be me!"
Bolin sighed, "Eric, don't toy with things like that, even if it's a joke. Remember the feud we have with the Aethels?"
"Oh yeah, my uncle mentioned something like that last night. He was livid."
Orom blinked, "Last night?" He turned to look at his cousin. "What happened?"
"We were in the same club as the Aethels. All it took was one from each side to interact and everything went south. Even the dreaded Baly was there."
Both listeners felt a shiver hearing her name. While neither of them have faced her before, they've definitely heard the stories. And none were pleasant.
Orom looked at his cousin up and down, "And are you okay? I know you prefer not to fight."
Bolin sighed and rubbed his wrists, "I managed to hold my own. Thankfully the police got there before it could get worse. Though now both Orestes and Aethels are on thin ice. Your father ordered us to be silent for a while."
Orom made a disbelieving face, "Doesn't sound like him."
"I convinced him."
"Ah. With whatever flowery language you used?"