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Arthur doesn't know what to expect from Eames, and it endlessly frustrates him. There's not enough data - he's never come to a job with a boyfriend or girlfriend tagging along, he keeps whatever liaisons he may have on the down-low. Arthur hates not knowing things; it makes for too much imagination going on.
(He's built up a rather alarming number of scenarios involving desks, walls, hotel beds, showers and a lot of darlings and sweethearts and Eames thrusting into him from behind, leaving fingerprints on his hipbones and bite marks on his shoulder blades). It isn't displeasing - Arthur rather likes his partners to be a bit dominant with him - but he doesn't know for sure whether he's correct or not, and all that matters are the facts.
He definitely isn't expecting Eames' hands to be gentle and slow, for him to press Arthur onto his back in luscious bed sheets, to caress and kiss and lick Arthur all over, to repeat Arthur Arthur Arthur in awestruck tones with no other endearments in sight. He doesn't expect Eames to make love to him, and hold him closely in the aftermath, wake him with a kiss and then take him out for breakfast in the morning.
Arthur likes it better this way.