(sorry for this, i truly am)

In the cosy confines of Quagmire's living room, Peter Griffin and Glenn Quagmire found themselves engaged in a rare moment of tranquillity. The faint glow of the fireplace cast dancing shadows across the room, illuminating their faces with a warm, flickering light.

Peter sat on the plush couch, nursing a cold beer, while Quagmire leaned against the armrest, his trademark smirk softened by the gentle ambiance of the room. They exchanged easy banter, their laughter mingling with the crackle of the fire.

As the night wore on, their conversation grew more intimate, delving into topics they rarely broached in their usual antics-filled encounters. Peter found himself drawn to Quagmire's quick wit and sharp mind, while Quagmire was captivated by Peter's unexpected depth and genuine kindness.

With each passing moment, a subtle tension began to simmer between them, an unspoken desire lingering in the air. Their gazes lingered a little longer, their touches a little more lingering, as if testing the waters of something new and unfamiliar.

It was Quagmire who made the first move, his hand reaching out to brush against Peter's arm in a gesture that spoke volumes more than words ever could. Peter's heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat as he met Quagmire's gaze, the intensity of their connection sparking a fire deep within his soul.

Slowly, tentatively, they leaned in closer, their lips brushing against each other in a hesitant, exploratory kiss. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the moment, the world fading away until there was nothing but the two of them, bound together by a love that defied all expectations.

And as the night stretched on, their embrace grew ever more passionate, each touch and caress igniting a firestorm of desire that burned hotter and brighter with each passing second. In each other's arms, they found a kind of solace they had never known before, a sense of belonging that whispered of endless possibilities yet to come.

The kiss began to deepen, their tongues in each other's mouths as a fiery dance. Quagmire leaned in impossibly flush to Peter and felt where his willy was becoming erect.

"Holy moley guacamole!" Quagmire says, feeling how hard Peter is, knowing the slit of his dick must be weeping. Not for Lois, that fucking ranga whore. Just for him.

"I-Do you want me to- Can I-" Peter stutters, his cherub cheeks bleeding pink blush down to his neck. Quagmire understands what he means. The black-haired man unbuttoned his signature red shirt, the cotton gracing his arms as it slips off his arms, thrown onto the floor. Peter follows his actions, taking his own shirt off and unbuckling his belt as Quagmire did the same. 

"Gee whilickers... Peter...your schlong-a-dong is so massive"

"And your tushie is so voluptuous, honeycakes." He praises, lining himself up and thrusting inside of him. 

"Yeowch!! Peter... you're so big!" Quagmire whines, the pain morphing into pleasure as he eases into the intrusion. 

From there, Peter sets a rhythm fiercer than Shakira as he hikes Quagmire's legs higher, granting him access to his prostate. 

Peter felt as if every part of his body was on fire, the sight of his long-time best friend in complete bliss made his eggplant twitch in excitement. 

"Quagmire... this is so freaking epic." Peter says as his pace became rougher, manifesting sweat on his brow from the absolute pleasure.

"Peter... Peter..." It was becoming too much too handle.

"Peter... I'm bout to cuhhhhhhhhh" He wails as his booty starts to clench around Peter's meat rod. His nerve endings light up in utter relief and he busts intensely and starts twitching as if he's been electrocuted. He clamps his eyes shut and pants as he comes down from his orgasm.

Peter comes shortly after, overwhelmed by the feeling of Quagmire around him, his weight surrounding his girthy member and the combined smell of each other's sweat.

He spills his seed deep inside his guts as he murmurs, "Quagmire... this is so freaking epic..."

They both slid their boxers back on, and they lay next to each other on the sofa in a domestic, loving manner. Arms wrapped around each other, a soft kiss planted on Peter's temple, the TV buzzing on as they press 'on' on the remote.

"You matched my freak, little bro," Peter whispered, "I'm glad we did this." 

For Peter Griffin and Glenn Quagmire, this was only the beginning of a love story that would defy all odds, a slow burn that would ignite their hearts and souls with a flame that could never be extinguished.

It turns out Stewie was spying on them the whole time through one of his super secret ray guns. It took him 27 years to come out. (Of the closet actually)

Giggity giggity goo

Note: I am so sorry for anyone having to read that but it's a wonder my friend managed to write that during english and not break a smile.