"I missed this too," Ares said huskily, kicking off his shoes in as least clumsy a fashion as he could manage. The trousers followed.
Ares was a proud man, and he was proud of himself, and proud of the way only he could make Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, weak at the knees. He loved her fiercely, with the heat of a thousand suns, and that love would never burn out. She really didn't need to even touch him to get him going. He had only to look at her the moment he walked in the door, and he was aching for her.
He slid his underwear off his hips and stepped out of them, and scooped Aphrodite up in his arms to kiss her passionately, her legs around his hips. He would never ever tire of kissing her.