#and this may or may not be my first sex toy that ive purchased in Years | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hourcat · 2 years ago

Note

I’m the sleepy sex anon and omg yes!! That fic you linked is actually one of my all time favourites 😭💕💕💕

I can’t believe you’re even considering writing more sleepy sex piarles 🥺

My heart is so full i could kiss you right now 😘

Ily 🥰

HI HI thank you for sending this requestttttt <3 to be totally honest i think i may have tried too hard on this one BUT ive been wrestling w/it for a couple days and i think its time to just...let it go. bestie i hope u enjoy this. i love u sm. thank u for reading my writing. im kissing u right back.

(word count: 4,871) (NSFW)

Charles is still asleep when Pierre returns to bed after his morning shower.

Which—honestly, Pierre had kind of predicted. It's summer break. They get a chance to breathe, to settle, to go at their own pace instead of frantically running behind their respective teams; it's been a long first half of the season, and he knows the second half won't be much better. So this is important time for them: rest, recovery, relaxation.

Pierre just can't sleep for shit.

Even after a night of drinking, or of keeping Charles up til the early morning hours wringing him dry of pleasure, Pierre seems to always be awake by 6 and alert by 7.

It kind of sucks, more often than not, because if there is one person in the world who's practically built for lounging, it's Charles.

It definitely sucks right now, because Pierre, fresh out of the shower, had gotten a little worked up under the hot water and had been hoping, against all hope, that Charles would be generally awake enough to start their morning off a little rough. If the way he's drooling and snoring softly into his pillow is anything to go by, Pierre's wish has fallen on deaf ears.

"Fuck," he mumbles, rubbing at his half-hard cock from under the towel wrapped around his waist. There's nothing on their agenda for today, really—it's raining this morning, although that isn't exactly an unwelcome thing since it's been so hot lately, so any attempts at beachgoing are, for the time being, tabled. Going out for breakfast is always a hassle because people have been recognizing him lately, and Pierre loves his fans but he knows he can't jeopardize the secrecy of his relationship with Charles by trying to be a normal twenty-something with his boyfriend.

So, technically, he could jerk off this morning waiting for Charles to wake up and not have any real interruptions to their wide-open schedule. He shrugs at the thought as if someone else suggested it to him. In bed, Charles has rolled over onto his stomach, face smushed entirely into the pillow.

He's sweet like this. Pierre wants to pet him, coo to him like he's some little woodland creature that Pierre has taken home. He sinks onto the mattress slowly, so he doesn't jostle his sleepy boyfriend too much, and combs a hand gently through Charles' sleep-mussed hair.

"Mon cheri," he hums quietly. Charles, still out cold, makes a little noise at the contact. Pierre chuckles to himself, wordlessly continues to tussle at his hair again.

And then—

"Mmm, Pierrot." Pierre watches, captivated, as Charles grinds into the mattress. He's not subtle about it—in fact, Pierre is pretty sure he'd done this awake the other day, when they were messing around with a new toy he'd indulgently purchased on the road. Then, at least, Pierre could tell what was going through his pretty boy's head.

Now? He's kind of dumbstruck, watching Charles begin to rub off on the mattress beneath him. The fog of lust is starting to cloud his brain again. Before he knows it, he’s moving on autopilot, falling into step with whatever game his slumbering boyfriend is trying to play without him.

"Mmm, Charlito," he purrs, continuing to pet at his sleeping partner. "Does this feel nice?" Charles moans in his sleep, grinding into the sheets more noticeably. Just to check, Pierre uses his free hand to lift the blankets just a little—and, yes, of course, he can see that Charles is half-hard right now, just from this.

"Fucking hell," Pierre breathes. The idea of jerking off by himself is suddenly not as appealing as having the real thing right beside him, clearly worked up and clearly having a sex dream about him. He tightens his fingers in Charles' hair and tugs, gentle, until another noise sputters from his mouth. This time, as he whimpers, Pierre watches the way his eyelids flutter open slowly, hazy and the most perfect shade of green he could ever imagine.

"Pierre," he half-greets, half-whines. His hips are still on their slow grind. "Mmmgm?"

Pierre chuckles softly despite himself, shifting so that the towel barely clinging to his body has fallen off in the places it needs to. He watches as Charles sees this. The pretty green of his eyes is beginning to get swallowed. "Good morning," he whispers, delicately rearranging himself over the sheets. "You sleep good?"

Charles nods a little, clearly more than half asleep. He's barely conscious, really: Pierre thinks the hand in his hair might be the only thing keeping him from falling back into the pillow. "Mmmmmmgh." Definitely not the response of a man fully awake and coherent.

"You sounded like you were having a good dream," Pierre murmurs, scooting a little closer. The warmth radiating off Charles is crazy. "Like you were enjoying yourself, cheri."

He's awake enough to blush at least. The low whine that comes out at Pierre's words is followed by another, more-conscious movement of his hips. "Yeah," he manages in his sleepy drawl. Charles' first real word of the day. Pierre's brain is startlingly awake in contrast; his dick is throbbing it's so hard, he has to fight every instinct not to beg Charles here and now to wake up so he can get inside, burrow deep in him the way he can never get enough of on mornings like these.

"Yeah," Pierre echoes, tucking even closer. The head of his cock bumps against Charles' thigh through the thin sheets, and he can see by the way the color in his cheeks gets darker that he'd noticed.

"Mmmm, Pierrot," he moans softly, hips jerking a little again.

"Does that feel good, Cha?" He's really burning up all of his self-control here and now, huh, in the first hour of being truly awake. There's nothing he wants more than to rub up against Charles until he rolls over and spreads out the way he always does when he's so good with Pierre. The restraint he's clinging to is quickly dissipating.

"Mm," Charles nods, breathy. When he speaks again, his voice has gone a little higher, thready with pleasure. "Yeah."

"Yeah," he repeats back. It's not even 8, he doesn't have to be good at talking dirty right now. Charles doesn't even seem to mind; he ruts into the sheets again at Pierre's utterance, mindless in the way he's trying to get off before even being fully awake. "Easy, calamar, easy—" he rests his free hand on Charles' lower back over the sheets and gets a slightly-louder noise in response. "Hey, let me—can—do you want—?" Do you want to fuck is the question, but Pierre doesn't need to actually finish his sentence. Even in sleep, Charles knows how his mind works. Hell, considering the fact that they're both this turned on so early, it's like they have the same brain.

Beneath his hand, Charles squirms. "Mmmmmgh," he answers after a beat, entirely unhelpful.

Pierre huffs a laugh, although he's so turned on it's a little less than funny right now. "Bebe, that is not an answer." He shifts, sucking in a sharp breath at the way Charles' hot skin feels even through the sheets against his shaft.

"Mmm, Pierre," he starts, and there are the words. "Yes, I—if you do the work, yeah." He grinds down again. "I am so tired, I don't understand how you can be so awake right now."

Pierre hums, satisfied, and shifts even closer so that he's nose to nose with his boyfriend for a moment. "You have no idea how you look right now," he says lowly. "You could wake the dead." He earns a whine in response. "I will take care of you, cheri, I promise." Pierre drops a gentle kiss to his nose, then one to the not-smushed cheek currently in view. "Roll over for me, love? I want to see your pretty face."

Charles makes a breathy little noise at his words. “This does not count as you doing all the work, you know,” he mumbles, although there’s a little smile curling on his face. Pierre just thwacks him in the shoulder gently. Charles whines again, but eventually obliges Pierre’s request—he’s graceless as he rolls over, drool dried at the corner of his mouth to make him look all the more disheveled. Pierre can only chuckle at the sight, even with the way his cock is hard enough to start aching a little at this point. When he peels the sheet away from over his boyfriend, he gets another whine. “Cold,” Charles mumbles.

Pierre just tsks at him, pushing up from his sprawled-out position to get a proper look. “Pushy,” he murmurs, and Charles chokes on a little laugh as Pierre ducks down to catch him in a kiss. It’s easy like always; Charles opens for him immediately, even half-awake at best like this, and Pierre takes no time in using it to his advantage. His boyfriend hadn’t been exaggerating about not wanting to do the work—Pierre is entirely in control, tongue in Charles’ mouth, teeth sunk into his bottom lip, swallowing down every little noise that comes out of him. Charles hasn’t even lifted his arms from where they’re laid up in bed; it’s all Pierre, it’s entirely Pierre.

Which. He won’t complain about by any means, really. Charles putting up a fight is always fun, and Pierre does love to wrestle, but a loose, pliant Charles does just as much for him. “I was thinking about you,” he mumbles against the younger’s mouth, breath coming sharper than he’d wanted it to. “In the shower.” Charles moans at the little confession. Pierre swallows it whole with the next kiss, exchanging it with a low, pleased noise of his own. “Thought about how—how loose you are, like this, sleepy and careless and ready for me.”

“Pierre,” he gets in return, and Pierre grins against Charles’ mouth, the short little huffs of breath indicating that Charles is a little more awake than he’s letting on.

“Charles,” he replies, dotting one last kiss to Charles’ now-reddened lip before shifting to get to work. “Are you loose for me, calamar?”

“Mmmm,” Charles breathes. He doesn’t seem capable of forming any words, really, just these lovely little noises and Pierre’s name. (Again, not that he’s complaining—it’s like music, a symphony composed just for Pierre, every sound he’s ever loved strung together and spilling from his best friend’s mouth all at once.) Pierre brushes his hand against Charles’ cheek, traces the swell of his pretty lip with a finger that Charles, intuitively, sucks into his mouth. He’s not mouthy with it, no: just allows Pierre’s finger to sit on his tongue for a few beats, pressing into it just enough to get it slick with saliva.

Satisfied, Pierre eases it back out; the accompanying noise is wet and filthy, forcing him to swallow down the muted noise of pleasure now curled in his throat, ready to come roaring out just from the way Charles looks like this. “Good boy,” he murmurs, using his thumb to pet affectionately at the curve of Charles’ cheek. His face gets pink at the praise. For a half-second, Pierre flies out of his body and watches the way Charles settles more heavily into the bed beneath him—the way his legs spread a little more, the way he arches his neck just so in a way that gives Pierre all the access he needs. He keeps blinking his slow, sleepy blink, and he’s just.

He's just.

Pierre is going to use lube, of course, but he’s a little bit out of his mind with the way Charles is just going with everything right now, so entirely boneless that Pierre might think he’s already been fucked to completion today. He’s got to just—with a low noise, he slips his saliva-slick finger into Charles’ hole, more exploratory than insistent. How loose is he still? Pierre had fucked him pretty good last night, but there’s no guaranteeing he’d stayed that stretched overnight, especially with his tendency to stress-dream. They’re about a week into summer, Pierre thinks he’s done a good enough job at keeping his boyfriend’s mind off of their mutually-aggravating job, but he can’t know for certain.

It takes all of one finger to figure out, though, that he’s doing that off-track job of his well. Charles is almost exactly how Pierre had left him last night; all but gaping, loose enough that Pierre could probably lube his cock up and slide in without too much work at all. Charles likes it like that, sometimes—rushed and heavy, frantic in a way that doesn’t quite allow him to swallow Pierre up inside him the way he’ll do if given the opportunity. He can’t fight the groan of pleasure that claws its way from his throat at this discovery.

“Charles,” he says through his teeth, “you are so fucking—”

“I dreamed about you,” Charles interrupts, voice still weighed down from sleep. He clenches around Pierre’s one finger for a hot second, sending a spiral of insanity up Pierre’s spine and directly into the front of his brain. His cock throbs. Whatever praise that had been on his tongue dies immediately. Fuck. “You were so, your hands, you kept me open when you—” Like he’s reliving the dream all over again, Charles moans pitifully.

Pierre can’t believe he didn’t already grab the fucking lube so he doesn’t have to miss out on Charles’ heat for a single second. Unfortunately, it’s on his side of the bed, which means there is ground to cover that will require him to leave here. Stupid stupid stupid. “What did I do, cheri,” he whispers, then catches Charles in a biting kiss for a hot second just to alleviate himself of the guilt that comes a second later when he slips his finger out, clumsily leaning across the mattress to get a hand on the bottle he’s after. “Tell me what I did to keep you so—open.” He closes his fingers around the bottle and immediately returns to where Charles is now squirming more actively, one knee tucked up towards his chest.

He's so ready he’s not even making Pierre do this part. Fuck.

“You—Pierre, your mouth was so, it was—” he cuts off with a sharp whine as Pierre, with a properly-lubed finger, presses back in and languidly crooks it forward. “Pierrot, oh my god—”

“I fucked you with my tongue, eh?” He’d probably be more effective in talking back if he weren’t so ready to get to his favorite part of all this, feeling how hot and tight Charles is for him every single time, even when he’s worked open all the way. If he were more poetic, he’d call them puzzle pieces; perfectly fitted, designed to be slotted together always. “I am sure you loved that, Charlito, you are very noisy when I eat you out like a fucking girl—” He slides a second prepped finger in and scissors lazily, wrangling another noise out of Charles’ now-parted mouth. The dried drool of sleep has been glossed over by the wet drool of mindless arousal, dribbling down his chin ever-so-slightly. "Fuck, I don't even have to—" Adding a third finger goes so quick Pierre almost swallows his tongue. Charles is ready. He's ready, he's half-awake and writhing under Pierre's touch and he's ready to get fucked after being awake not even, what, ten minutes? "Charles, fucking hell—"

"'m ready," Charles whines like he can read Pierre's mind. "I—Pierrot, I am ready, I need you—"

"Shhh, sweetheart," he purrs, leaning forward so that Charles' leg can properly hook over his shoulder. When he finally pulls his fingers from Charles' hole, his boyfriend whines pitifully, just this side of bratty. (Pierre's second favorite part, a very close second, is that little sound—petulant Charles, how demanding he can be when he's not all-the-way full all the time. Toys can only do so much.) "Easy, cher, easy, I'm going to take care of you." Pierre rubs at the back of Charles' other thigh like he's trying to soothe a wounded animal. He responds easily, leg lifting so Pierre has an improved angle, and ducks forward for one last kiss, one that's definitely less of a kiss and more of a clumsy-mouth-collision. "Are you ready for me, sleepyhead?"

Charles rubs his cheek against Pierre's, catlike. "Yeah," he manages faintly. It may be the best Pierre will get—he can tell already that Charles is lost in the experience from the way his eyes, lidded from sleep, have now gotten even heavier from the way Pierre has finger-fucked him open. He’s saturated with pleasure. He doesn’t even have to look to know that his dick is weeping precome just from how blissed out he is. (A little tingle crawls up his spine at that—at the reminder that, yes, Pierre is the one who gets to have him like this. Who gets to do this to him, who makes him feel this good.)

"Good boy," the Frenchman repeats, nuzzling at Charles gently. And, with one final kiss nestled at the faint crease of his boyfriend’s dimple, Pierre finally gets what he’s been after all morning.

“Pierre—” Charles’ voice is high and thready as Pierre eases in, slow like always even despite his ceaseless desire to thrust right in all the way. Charles can handle it, he’s done it before—but this morning, Pierre wants to keep Charles the way he is right now. Easy. Pliant. Sleepy. “Pierre, oh my god, Pierre—”

“You are taking me so good, cheri,” Pierre murmurs, rubbing at the meat of Charles’ thigh soothingly. “So good, sweetheart, you are so—fuck you are so tight, even with all that work we did, yeah?” Charles seems to be beyond words; he nods, eyes screwed shut, lips parted so pretty Pierre wishes his phone were closer so he could capture the moment. “You feel so good, Charles, fuck. Fuck, cher, fuck—” every second has Pierre closer to bottoming out, and Charles’ voice keeps breaking with every bit of Pierre he’s taking in.

“Pierre,” he manages with a soft whimper. His arm finally lifts from where it’s been draped across Pierre’s pillow, fingers sinking into the flesh of Pierre’s shoulder. Even with dull nails he can feel it like a branding iron. “I want all of it, all—please, oh my god, Pierre—” The words have broken off into half-formed noises as Pierre finally, finally bottoms out inside him. He’s dizzy with it, to be honest—there’s no getting used to how good Charles feels, like he’s made for Pierre and Pierre alone. They’ve done this a thousand times before, Pierre has had Charles a thousand different ways, and yet: he’ll never be used to this. Not ever.

“There we go,” he finally says, unable to keep the grunt of pleasure out of his voice as Charles clenches around him tight. “Fuck, there we are, calamar, all in. You have all of me, sweetheart, you did so good.” He thumbs at Charles’ cheek again with the hand not currently keeping him balanced, humming quietly at the way Charles leans into it even here and now. “How do you feel, mon cheri.”

Charles moans, the sound so familiar to the noises he’d been making in his sleep not too long ago. “Full,” he whispers, eyes still shut tight. The fingers dug into Pierre’s shoulder press even harder for a beat. Then: “Feels right.”

Pierre laughs lowly, ducking forward to kiss the place his thumb had been attending to. “Yeah?”

Charles nods, a quick and dramatic little thing. He looks a little silly. Pierre would laugh if he weren’t buried so god damn deep in him. “I feel—” He inhales sharply as Pierre has to re-balance on the mattress and jostles them a little. “I want to be like this always.”

The words are quiet but slap Pierre across the face open-handed. “You do, huh,” he says after a moment, aiming for teasing but knowing he’s missed the mark from the way his voice has gone ragged around the edges. He really isn’t going to last long at all the way things are going now. There’s no recovering from Charles’ lust-driven earnestness, especially now that he’s got his eyes open again. They’re so dark. Pierre knows he could get lost in them if he’s not careful.

“Fuck me, Pierrot,” the Monegasque breathes, lashes fluttering, and Pierre can’t do anything but oblige, drilling a singular thrust to send Charles skittering beneath him. The sob that wrenches from his throat is anything but soft. Pretty boy, pretty boy. Pierre sinks into him again, presses a clumsy kiss to Charles’ begging mouth, catches his teeth just right to draw another stuttering whine from somewhere at the back of his throat.

“Charlito,” he gasps as Charles meets his next thrust. “I am not going to—you—fuck, stay down, sweetheart, let me—”

Charles’ moan cuts him off. “Touch me, touch me,” he’s begging between shuddering gasp-sobs. Still clinging to Pierre’s shoulder with one hand, he rests the other over Pierre’s hand and lingers only for a moment before closing loosely around his wrist. “Pierre, please, please Pierre.”

A wrecked laugh spills out of Pierre’s mouth, somehow. “Eager,” he says, the rest of his thought utterly lost on his tongue at the way Charles continues to work with him thrust for thrust. He’s definitely awake now. “Yes, cher, yes, I—touch you, yes, fuck, of course,” so inelegant and clumsy as the words come out. Charles moans at them anyway, tightens his grip on Pierre’s wrist. “I have you, I have you.”

“Please,” he repeats, nodding frantically. He doesn’t release his hold on Pierre. (Maybe he’s not planning on it. The idea makes him dizzy again.)

He’s normally more controlled than this—although, lately, he’s been making that excuse to himself a lot when it comes to Charles, the way he’s been out of his mind every moment he gets alone with his best friend. There’s something gnawing at his gut, something he can’t quite shake: the fear that Charles will realize who he is, what he is, and see Pierre for what he actually is under the years and years of fond memories.

But he’s not going to psychoanalyze himself now, not as Charles has started bucking into the hand currently loose around the hilt of his cock.

“Pierrot,” he choke-sobs, drool spilling from the corners of his mouth like a waterfall. Charles is entirely lost in this, entirely; head thrown back, chest heaving, looking like an absolute painting of lust incarnate. Pierre is the one in control, here, doing all the work even if Charles is now trying to meet him halfway on it. It’s a very Charles thing of him to do, really—unable to fully let go even when he says he wants otherwise.

Admittedly, seeing Charles nestled in bed had triggered something in Pierre’s brain—something quiet. Something domestic. Something private. A summer just for them, not Instagram or anybody else’s eyes.

Fucking Charles until he’s wild might be a bit of an obstacle to this.

So he figures he’ll just have to take matters into his own hands. “Easy,” Pierre murmurs, slowing his thrusts but keeping the force behind them as best as he can. Charles keeps clinging to him. “Easy, Charles, I—” he shushes instinctively, thumbing at his boyfriend’s cheek again. “I have you, I promise.” His free hand wanders through Charles’ sleep-flattened hair, tsking quietly. “Be good for me, mon amour.”

Charles, to his credit, seems to settle at Pierre’s touch and words, especially as Pierre’s nails scrape a little at his scalp. The way his eyes roll a little at the sensation makes something warm in Pierre’s gut curl. “Pierrot,” Charles repeats, voice low and hoarse.

“Charles,” he answers with a soft look. “Close your eyes, cher. You trust me, yes?”

Charles’ eyes flutter closed immediately. “Always,” he answers.

“Then let me make you feel good.”

Charles moans softly, and Pierre can see the way he visibly relaxes again, once more pliant and sleep-soft. A surge of affection swells in his chest at the sight. He’s known Charles for most of his life—knows that he gets so quickly worked up about so many things, knows that he holds on to things even when he says he doesn’t. So to get Charles settled so quickly again like this… “Okay,” his boyfriend whispers.

“Okay,” Pierre echoes, then steals a fleeting kiss from Charles’ just-open lips. “Okay, cheri. Okay.” He closes his hand around Charles’ cock, strokes him once slowly. “There we go,” he says, distantly hearing how he sounds—choked, hoarse, barely hanging on by a thread. “What do you want, bebe.”

Charles whimpers. “You,” he answers, and Pierre hears this clear as day, like his lips are pressed right to Pierre’s earlobe. And—well—they might be, they really might be; Pierre can barely tell where he ends and Charles begins, which also feels like it’sbeen happening more these days. The lines have always been blurred for as long as Pierre can remember, but this—this is new, almost. Maybe it’s just summer.

Maybe it’s just Pierre realizing that he’s capable of wanting things outside of the track.

He’s been moving on autopilot, he realizes vaguely, as the noises of pleasure spilling out of Charles finally register in his ears once again. He’s quick to lock back into the task at hand, of course, working to align his hip and hand movements so that Charles is being barraged with the sensations the way he loves. Pierre, he’s begging, Pierre Pierre Pierre like it’s the only thing he knows how to say, and it’s—

“Fuck,” he groans, the resurgence of his self-control collapsing at the way Charles’ voice breaks on his name. “Charles, fuck, I am going to—”

“Please,” he interrupts, already sure of what Pierre is going to say as he thrusts up into Pierre’s hand. “Please, I am—yes, Pierre, I need—I want to feel you—”

That’s it. Graceless, he comes still buried deep in Charles, body once again completely disconnected from his mind as he thrusts helplessly. Pierre burrows into Charles’ shoulder as he lets go, mouth open and breathing wet against the freckled expanse of skin he loves so dearly. Charles, of course, comes right after him, streaking his stomach and Pierre’s still-working-him-through-it hand and even towards the glittering silver chain sitting heavy around his neck, but Pierre doesn’t move from where he’s slotted himself. He still feels like he’s wading through his own desires—like somehow, fucking a half-asleep Charles in his apartment in his Milan apartment has unlocked something new within him, something complicated and heavy and easy all at once.

And, well, maybe it has.

He’s still breathing heavy, a little dizzy from coming down so quickly from his high with so little air getting to his brain from his spot. Pierre slowly lifts off of him—face first, then hand, then cock, all departures that draw little noises of disappointment from Charles as he’s exposed once again to the cool air conditioning of his apartment.

Charles, who is so effortlessly beautiful like this, filthy with sweat and cum and blissfully riding the little aftershocks of his own orgasm. The sheets look sharp against his tanned skin. He does look like a painting, everything about him—Pierre’s eyes flicker over his body and see, with a little overstimulated pang of hunger, that his own cum is leaking from Charles’ puckered hole. He moves like a man possessed—still working on autopilot, Pierre’s action feels instinctive, to use two fingers and press the filthy mess back inside him. “Mine,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Charles whines again at the contact. His breath is warm and strong against Pierre’s cheek.

“Yours,” he murmurs against Pierre’s lips, voice shredded. He lifts a hand to rake through Pierre’s hair. “Yours always.”

Pierre hums, the weight of the morning suddenly heavy on his limbs. He collapses beside Charles, whose eyes are glittery and once again heavy looking with sleep. “I hope I lived up to your dream,” Pierre says after a beat, reaching over to touch Charles’ glowing skin again.

Charles chuckles softly. “Eh,” he answers, trademark catlike grin splitting his face in two. With a soft grunt, he scoots closer to Pierre (like they were even really that far apart) to rest gently on his shoulder, nuzzling him once again. “Perhaps I will dream of you again, Pierrot, and you can try once more.”

Pierre snorts softly. “You are insatiable,” he murmurs, unable to keep from pressing a formless kiss to Charles’ head. He gets a muffled noise in response. “Maybe I will, huh.”

“Mmmmmgh” is the response he gets.

Pierre’s never been one to nap—especially not this early in the day—but with Charles’ weight tucked into his side, pleasure still covering him like a blanket, maybe he’ll consider it.

The shower’s not going anywhere, after all.

#piarles #pierrecharles #10 x 16 #fic #prompt #ok literally im never writing smut again i swear i am exclusively sticking to normal soft not insane things #if u read this. forgive me. my brain worms just decided to up and leave me all at once #ask reply #Anonymous

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margdarsanme · 4 years ago

Text

NCERT Class 12 History Chapter 1 Bricks, Beads and Bones The Harappan Civilisation

NCERT Class 12 History Solutions

Chapter 1 Bricks, Beads and Bones The Harappan Civilisation

NCERT TEXTBOOK QUESTIONS :

Q 1. List the items of food available to people in Harappan cities. Identify the groups who would have provided these.

Ans. Q 2. How do archaeologists trace socio-economic differences in Harappan society? What are the differences that they notice? [Delhi, All India 2009, 2011]

Ans. Following examples can be cited to show the existence of social and economic variations : in the Harappan society:

(i) Study of burials is one example. In the Harappan sites, the deads were usually laid in pits. There were differences in the Way burial pits were made. At some instances, the hollowed-out spaces were lined with bricks. But these may not be taken as an indication of social differences.

(ii) In some graves pottery and ornaments have been found. Jewellery has been found from the graves of men and women as well. These findings can point out social and economic differences. ‘

(iii) The artefacts have been classified into two categories, Utilitarian and Luxurious. Objects of daily uses and objects made of ordinary materials made of clay or stone come under utilitarian category. Ordinary articles consisted of querns, pottery, flesh-rubbers and needles. These have been found distributed throughout settlements.

(iv) Objects of luxuries were rare and made from precious, non-local materials. The technology used was advanced and complicated. Little pots of faience were considered precious. They were also not easy to make. These show the existence of social and economic variations in the Harappan society. Q 3. Would you agree that the drainage system in Harappan cities indicates town planning? Give reasons for your answer.

Ans. Yes, I agree with that the drainage system in Harappan cities which indicates the town planning. I can cite the following reasons in support of my answer.

The drainage system needed a planning for its execution. It seems that first drainages were laid out and then houses were built along with the drains. Every house was supposed to have at least one wall along a street to allow the domestic waste water to flow out in the street drains. The plans of the lower town show that roads and streets were laid out along an approximate grid pattern, intersecting at right angles.

It appears that human settlement was made by planning from the beginning. The city was restricted to a fixed area on the platforms.

Bricks, sundried or baked, were of standard ratio. The length and breadth of bricks were of four times and twice the height respectively These bricks were used at all the settlements of the Harappan Civilisation.

Q 4. List the materials used to make beads in the Harappan Civilisation. Describe the process by which any one kind of bead was made.

Ans. Making beads was an important craft of the Harappan people. It was mainly prevalent in Chanhudaro.

Materials for making beads included beautiful red coloured stone-like camelian, jasper, crystal, quartz and steatite. Besides these, use of copper, bronze, gold, shell, faience, terracotta or burnt clay was also used.Process of making beads Making of beads differed as per the materials used. Beads had variety*of shapes. They did not make geometrical shapes like one made of harder stones.

Nodules were to be chipped for making rough shapes. They were finally flaked into the final form. By firing the yellowish raw material, the red colour of camelian was obtained. Grinding, polishing and drilling constituted the last phase. Chanhudaro, Lothal and Dholavira were famous for specialized drilling. Q 5. Look at figure 1.30 (See NCERT page-26) and describe what you see. How is the body placed? What are the objects placed near it? Are there any artefacts on the body? Do these indicate the sex of the skeleton ?

Ans. Following observations can be obtained after looking at the figure:

Body has been kept in North-south direction in a pit,

Many graves contain pottery and ornaments which include jar.

Yes, jewellery like bangles are there on the body.

Yes, this indicates towards the sex of the skeleton, Le. it is the body of a woman.

It is concluded that there were great social or economic differences among the people living within the area of the Harappan Civilisation. But as a whole it appears that the Harappan did not believe in burying precious things with the dead.

Q 6. Describe some ofthe distinctive features of Mohenjodaro. [Delhi 2013]

Ans. Planned City: Harappa as a planned urban centre. It had two parts. One part of the city was small. It was built on a higher place.

The second part was comparatively large. It was built on a lower place. The first part was designed as citadel and the second part was as lower town. The citadel owed its height to the fact that it was built on mud brick platforms.It had walls on all sides and these walls were separated from the lower town.The Lower Town: It was also a walled town.Most of the buildings were built on platforms.

In fact, these platforms were considered as foundation stones. It required huge quantity of labour force to build these platforms. It is obvious that settlement was first planned and then implemented as per the building plan.Quality of sun-dried bricks or baked bricks also prove the concept of planning. All the bricks were of standard ratio. The length and width was four times and twice the height of the bricks respectively. These bricks were used in the settlements of the Harappan Civilisation.

Drainage System: The drainage system was well planned. All the roads and streets were laid out on a grid pattern. They intersected one another at the right angles. It seems that streets featuring drains were laid out first and houses were built thereafter along with them. To make the flow of domestic water, every house had at least one wall along the street.

The Citadel: There were many buildings in the citadel. These buildings were used for many special public purposes. The Warehouse and the Great Bath were the two most important constructions.

Q 7. List the raw materials required for craft production in the Harappan Civilisation and discuss how these might have been obtained.

Ans. Following is the list of materials required for craft production in the Harappan Civilisation: Stone, clay, copper, tin, bronze, gold, faience, shell, camelian, jasper, crystal, steatite, quartz, timber. Some of the raw materials were locally available whereas some were purchased from the distant places. Soil and wood were locally available raw materials. Stones, fine quality wood, metals were procured from distant places.

Settlements of the Harappans were situated at such places where raw materials were easily available. Nageshwar and Balacot were famous for shell. Some places were famous for Lapis Lazuli like Shortughai in Afghanistan. Rajasthan and Gujarat were famous for copper. Lothal was famous for camelian.

Another way of obtaining raw material was sending expeditions to different places. Evidences show that expedition was sent to Khetri region of Rajasthan for copper and to South India for Gold. Through these expeditions local communities were contacted. Harappan evidences found at these places indicate contacts between each other. Evidences found at Khetri region were given the name of Ganeshwar Jodhpura Culture by archaeologists. Huge reserves of copper products were found here. It is assumed that inhabitants of these area sent copper to Harappan people. Q 8. Discuss, how archaeologists reconstruct the past.

Ans. Archaeologists excavate the sites of the ancient past related to culture or civilization. They find out the art and craft such as seal, material, remains of houses, buildings, pots, ornaments, tools, coins, weights, measurements and toys, etc.

Skulls, bones, jaws, teeth of the dead bodies and materials kept with these dead bodies are also helpful for archaeologists. With the help of the botanists, and zoologists, archaeologists study the plants and animal bones found at different places.

Archaeologists try to find out the tools used in the process of cultivation and harvesting. They also try to find out traces of wells, canals, tanks, etc. as they served means of irrigation. Different layers of sites are observed to find out different things. These things give the picture of socio-economic condition such as religious life and the cultural life of the people.

Tools, unfinished products, waste materials, help in identifying the centres of craft production. Indirect evidences also help the archaeologists in reconstructing the past.

Archaeologists develop frames of references, It can be better understood by this fact that the first Harappan seal that was found could not be understood till archaeologists had a context in which to place it-both in terms of cultural sequence in which it was found and in terms of a comparison with finds in Mesopotamia.

Examination of seals help in constructing the concept of religious belief of the period. Seals depict religious scenes. Some animals such as the one-homed animal, often called the unicorn depicted on the seals appear mythical, composite creatures. In some seals, a figure has been shown sitting crossed legs in a yogic posture. All these represent the religious concept of the period. Q 9. Discuss the functions that may have been performed by rulers in Harappan society.

Ans. There are different views on the Harappan society. One group of archaeologists suggest that the Harappan society had no rulers and so everybody enjoyed equal status. The other group of archaeologists are of the opinion that there was no single ruler but several ones. The third theory seems the most suitable. It suggests that it is unlikely that entire communities could have collectively made and implemented such complex decisions.

Evidences show that complex decisions were taken and implemented in the Harappan society. Extra ordinary uniformity of Harappan artefacts as evident in pottery, seals, weights and bricks show the complex decisions.

Plans and layouts of the city were prepared under the guidance and supervisions of the rulers. Big buildings, palaces, forts, tanks, wells, canals and granaries were constructed.

Cleanliness was the responsibility of the ruler. Roads, lanes and drains were also constructed. The rulers also looked after the welfare of the economy. They hsed to inspire the farmers to increase agricultural production. They also motivated the craftsmen to promote different handicrafts. External and internal trade were both promoted by the ruler. The ruler used to issue common acceptable coins or seals, weights and measurements.

Rulers were expected to provide relief during natural calamity. During flood, earthquake, epidemics, the ruler provided grains and other eatables to the affected people. During foreign aggression, the rulers defended the city. Q 10.On the given map, use a pencil to circle the sites where evidence of agriculture has been recovered. Mark an X against sites where there is evidence of craft production and R against sites where raw materials were found.

Ans.

(i) Sites of agriculture: Harappa, Banawali, Kalibangan, Mohenjodaro, Dholavira (Gujarat).

(ii) Sites of craft production: Chanhudaro, Nageshwar, Balakot.

(iii) Sites of raw material: Nageshwar, Balakot, Khetri.

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