Notes

Takeshi really wasn't in the mood to be pushed around by same pompous British asshole who flittered around the room and quoted dead people. The thought that this man, of all the people who had the means and funds to do so, bought him rather irritated him as well, and so, in a sudden fit of rage at all that had happened to him thus far, he pushed the man against a bookshelf and held him there with an iron grip, his forearm pressed against his neck.
Laurens choked slightly upon impact with Takeshi's arm but otherwise maintained his calm demeanor, his condescending gaze never changing as he stared calmly down at Takeshi, which served to only inflame him more.
"The warden - he said you had 'leased' me, and that I had no rights until the end of it. Is that right?" Takeshi asked in a low voice.
"Would you have rather have not been revived at all?" Laurens asked, raising his eyebrow even as Takeshi pressed him further against the shelf. He wasn't concerned, not really - he seemed like a very temperamental man, but not so foolish as to kill someone as influential and powerful as Laurens.
"Right now, I don't know," the taller man replied, all the while glaring angrily at Laurens. "But what I do know is I'm not going to be your slave."
Laurens managed to huff a laugh. "Slave? I wouldn't go that far - I just need you to do one simple task for me."
Takeshi shoved his body against and Laurens's and whispered into his ear, "let me make one thing very clear. I don't care what you want me to do. I don't care if you want me to do a push-up or blot out the sun - you do not own me." Laurens tried not to shiver - he'd heard much of Convoys and knew of their hefty reputations, but meeting one in person was a wholly different experience.
Nevertheless, he schooled his features into one of polite indifference and mustered all the patience he could. Even if those he dealt with couldn't, Laurens had always prided himself on being civil and pleasant. He wouldn't resort to threats - not yet, at least.
"If you're successful, you'll gain more than just your freedom, Mr. Kovacs. A full pardon, signed by the president of the Protectorate himself. A chance to pick the sleeve you wish, or stay in the one you're currently in, if you like, and a sum of 50,000 UN credits. A fortune, even to me.
But, unexpectedly, Takeshi's grip on him didn't weaken at all - if anything, the tension in his arms grew with each word Laurens spoke until suddenly something flashed in his eyes and he let Laurens go, allowing him just enough time to catch his breath before promptly grabbing him by his thick waist and slamming him onto a table. Laurens could feel the taller man pressing against him, his clothes hot against Laurens's bare skin - wait, when had that happened?
Takeshi presses the entire length of his body against Laurens's, and once against whispers, "I don't care."
Laurens had leased Takeshi Kovacs expecting many things - threats, intimidation, anger, rage, frustration, violence - but of all of the eventualities he had prepped for, he had never once stopped to consider that Kovacs would do something far worse.
Laurens near breaks into a cold sweat as he realizes a few facts: one, he is completely helpless under Kovacs, with no way to call for help. Two, Kovacs's intentions with him aren't likely innocent considering he's already divested Laurens of both of his shirts. And three, he needs to take drastic action to prevent that from happening. Laurens isn't proud of it, but underneath Kovacs's unyielding body his composure dissolves and he begins to practically beg - him, one of the most influential people on the planet, begging what is legally his property to let him go and not rape him.
"Message received, Mr. Kovacs. You are not one to be owned - of course, you're a Courier, what else was I expecting," Laurens babbles as he feels Takeshi slowly begin to slide his pants off. His panic, justifiably, heightens. He begins to make compromises he definitely wouldn't have in any other scenario. To be honest, Laurens finds Kovacs, or his shell, at least, to be rather attractive, and he's lived long enough to have a few trysts with men, but the idea of being violated by his property, of all things, causes him such emotional distress he cannot help but despair.
"Very well, you're free to go, Mr. Kovacs. You are not beholden to me or my family whatsoever any longer. If you could just-" He chokes once again as Takeshi practically rips his underwear off, and it occurs to Laurens that Takeshi is completely clothed (in garments he provided him with), and he is completely and utterly naked.
He can feel Kovacs's lust-filled gaze raking over the backside of his body, and he resists a very sudden urge to blush. Sex has never made him shy before, why now-
A calloused palm strokes over Laurens's bare skin, running over unblemished and flawless skin. The shell Laurens chose has an athletic, muscular build, but that was not what had attracted him to it. It had been the skin, the perfect skin that had drawn him - and now, apparently, it had drawn Kovacs as well.
"A-ah," Laurens blurts out before he can silence himself, his blush deepening as Takeshi's hand moves further and further down until it's nearly touching his cock.
The ex-Courier's other hand slowly feels up Laurens's body, pushing against his sculpted abs and sizeable pectorals, brushing against dusty nipples that compel even more embarrassing moans from Laurens.
"Ngh," he grits out as Takeshi roughly grabs his cock and begins to stroke it with rapid movements, "d-don't, please."
"Don't want?" Takeshi leans in against Laurens's neck and licks a hollow that causes the older man to writhe helplessly, half in terror and half in arousal. "Don't take what I want? Don't give you what you deserve? What you need?" Laurens is about to deny it when he realizes belatedly that his cock is leaking pre-come, and rather quickly as well. It gathers up at his tip and leaks over onto Takeshi's rough hands, a constant stream that belies his pleasure and arousal. Laurens feels his face heat up even more.
"Please don't," he nearly sobs out as Takeshi pumps his cock until the pre-come shoots up to cover the older man's face. "please don't, please-" He is silenced by an involuntary moan that forces its way out of his mouth as Takeshi presses his clothed cock against his bare ass. It sends a shock of pleasure up his spine that he really wishes it didn't.
He practically wails as Takeshi flicks a nipple with one hand and shoves a finger into his ass with the other. He simultaneously pushes against Takeshi's hardened body and makes an abortive attempt to escape it's attempt, but in either direction he possesses very little mobility. That, more than anything else, scares Laurens. He is undoubtedly a hedonistic megalomaniac who enjoys sex in fairly large and certainly unethical amounts, but he is always in an assured position of power even then. Being forced against a table and taken against his will - it's too much, and it is only through sheer willpower that he doesn't collapse into tears as one finger becomes two, and two become three.
"Not so calm now, huh, Laurens Bancroft?" Takeshi practically sneers, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction at seeing the almighty Bancroft reduced to a sobbing wreck, writhing vainly against Takeshi in some pathetic attempt to escape his fate.
"Don't, don't, please," he continues to beg. "I'll- I'll give you as much money as you want, my power and influence will be yours for the taking, just don't-"
Takeshi silences him with a quiet thrust that leaves Laurens screaming with some mix of pleasure and pain. Pressing his mouth against his ear, he says, loudly enough to hear over Laurens's guttural moans, screams, and pleas for help, "I thought I told you I don't care about any of that. All I want to do right now-" He shifts his hips and his cock slips out nearly entirely, but Laurens's brief, incoherent words of gratitude are quickly halted as he thrusts back in with increased ferocity and replaced with, once again, tears and sobs for it to stop.
"-Is leave you wrecked and ruined. You own me?" He gives a fake, hollow laugh and shoves his cock back into Laurens's shaking ass, his screams only barely abating to indicate the lessening of the pain. "Don't make me laugh, you fucking slut," he practically hisses as Laurens tilts his head back and howls in overstimulation, his British accent especially prominent now that he's too... preoccupied to try to cover it up any. "I own you, and I always will. Now spread your legs."
Laurens only sobs as he feels Takeshi force his legs open and force his cock deeper inside, striking his prostate with such precision that it leaves him boneless and helpless with pleasure.

5 hours ago, Takeshi was unconscious, without a body to truly call his own, unable to do anything. Now? Well, Takeshi doesn't know what exactly qualifies as an achievement here 250 years in the future, but he's pretty sure he's done pretty well to have one of the most powerful and influential men in the world perched on his cock, reluctantly grinding against it as Takeshi's unforgiving pace forces orgasm after orgasm out of him. Every time his fingers even brush slightly against the older man's nipples, Laurens gives a big great gasp and spasms until Takeshi presses him down firmly against his cock. After he'd covered the table he'd first pressed Laurens against completely in come, he'd moved onto the next, and then the one after that, and so on, until he had splattered over 10 tables with Laurens's come. He isn't sure if Laurens had ever considered stamina when picking out his shell, but he certainly has quite a lot of it.
Now, pressing the helpless man against the 11th table of the day, Takeshi presses his still-clothed body against Laurens's come-covered back and whispers, "so, about that pardon, you'll approve it, won't you?"
Laurens whimpers slightly and tries to sink into the table, but Takeshi tightens his grip on his body and forces him back onto his cock. A weak spurt of pre-come splatters onto his come-stained abs, tightly defined, when Takeshi squeezes a pectoral, and Laurens gives a start when he realizes Takeshi had asked him a question.
"P-pardon?" He manages to mutter, eyes blinking to try to clear the come from where it drips over his eyebrows.
"Yeah, you'll sign it, won't you?" Takeshi whispers against his flawless skin.
Laurens retains just enough consciousness to know that's probably a terrible idea, but at this point his will has completely crumbled. Perhaps, in the morning, after a good night's rest, his defiance will return full-force, but right now the most he can do is vaguely wonder why no one's come to check on him and give in to Takeshi's demands.
"O-of course, Mr. Kovacs," he manages to mutter, and Takeshi sharply pinches a nipple and draws another reluctant moan from Laurens's abused throat, as if his abuse of the older man's body were a reward that Laurens ought to cherish.
"Thank you, Laurens," he says condescendingly. At the very least, he's gone back to referring to him by his actual name rather than just "slut" or "dirty whore."
"Now," he continues, even as Laurens spreads out his sculpted body against the table, thankful for the brief break from all the fucking, "you'll show me to your bedroom, won't you?"
Laurens briefly considers pointing at the exit, where surely there'll be at least one guard posted, but he figures Takeshi would rather just fuck him here for the rest of the night than risk that, and as much as he hates the idea of sleeping with the man who's just spent 3 and a half hours raping him without remorse, he wants to, more than anything, fall into a deep slumber and forget about all that's happened if only for a few hours.
So he feebly raises a finger to a room upstairs, and Takeshi unhesitatingly stands up and begins walking as if there weren't a come-soaked man still sitting on his cock. His hands, roaming across Laurens's toned ass, give very little support, and the man is left to whimper and gasp as Takeshi's cock shoves in and out of him with each step. The climb up the stairs is especially tortorous, as Takeshi's still hard cock presses consistently against Laurens's battered prostate and forces another dry orgasm from the man.
Takeshi collapses into the bed with Laurens's naked from still pressed firmly against him - the only indication at all that he was at all tired from the last three hours, and both promptly go to sleep. Laurens tries, of course, to force Takeshi's cock out of his come-stained ass, but the ex-Courier merely throws an arm over him and keeps him trapped, his thumb absentmindedly stroking at one swollen nipple with practiced strokes that leave Laurens writhing and gasping until he eventually passes out from exhaustion.

When Laurens awakes, he is able to convince himself for almost a full second that there's nothing wrong, that all the terrible things that had happened yesterday were but a dream, but the come sticking uncomfortably to his skin and the warm body pressing against his back quickly shatter that illusion.
He tries to cover his sobs of desperation, wriggling desperately out of Takeshi's firm grip. He's almost there, actually, almost has entirely escaped Takeshi's grasp, when it suddenly tightens and he is forced back entirely onto the younger's thick cock.
It is then that he begins to sob in earnest. Not 24 hours ago he was probably the most powerful man on Earth, with unlimited funds at his disposal, and now he was what? A dog to a disgraced terrorist, at best? He tries to curl in on himself, but Takeshi doesn't allow him even that slight luxury. He impales Laurens completely on his cock and whispers a single word, "slut", into his ear before beginning to earnestly fuck him once again.
When Laurens has come a "sufficient amount" of times, according to Takeshi, he is allowed some amount of freedom and roams the library aimlessly, leaning against walls and shelves for support as his shaking body, barely able to support itself, slowly begins to readjust to some activity that doesn't involve unbearable pleasure and sensation.
He isn't allowed to wear clothes - Takeshi made that more than clear when he'd given Laurens a brief chance to attempt to put on a suit (he cringed to think of how the undershirt would be ruined by the dry come on his skin, but the uncomfortableness was nothing compared to the indignity of being nude under Takeshi's shamelessly lecherous gaze). He'd almost felt some very small sense of normalcy return, until it was promptly destroyed when Takeshi abruptly thrust his cock into Laurens's leaking ass. The shirt flung from the older man's grasp, and Takeshi proceeded to fuck Laurens through another orgasm before allowing him another chance to exit the bedroom. Now, he stood by a small window and moruned himself, for he was, for all intents and purposes, dead. He had been practically a god - no, he had been a god - and now everything he was and had was Takeshi's to own and use. He was nothing but a slave. Nothing but property.
A slight smile graces his face, but it is bitter and mirthless. How ironic.