By the time they had reached the couch, Peter was already beginning to get a sinking feeling in his gut. He honestly couldn't tell whether it was because Robin was speaking the truth or if he was just that confused right now that it seemed plausible he really was oriented that way. Being a Dom or a sub was one of the in things nowadays, the edgey happenstance that only the fakers really spoke about like it was something super-special-awesome. Separating the wheat from the chaff was for those who knew what they were getting into, or people who were more politically-sensitive than Peter was on a whole. Wouldn't he have figured it out earlier than this?

Peter sat. He couldn't really say what it was that made him do it, other than treacherous legs or morbid curiosity in what Robin was getting at. He looked up at her, feeling the difference in balance right now: she had his hands inside of hers and was maintaining her height over him and his heart was starting to beat faster in anticipation of something. He swallowed and broke eye contact once again, but did not try to draw his hands back to himself. They were okay where they were.

"It's... It's just preference, right? There's not something weird about being D/s, that's what everyone says," he argued weakly. She made it sound like it was a disease or something. Going against nature and all that. "I'm just having an off day. That's not weird."