Inhalation, for Zephre!
Severus never thought he smelled...well, pleasing, after a long day of brewing. But as soon as his robes and shirt were off, Remus was there, inhaling the scent of Severus: spicy cardamon, cleansing feverfew, pungent aconite, subtle red clover, faint lemon.
Severus knew that there was nothing special about those scents, yet...Remus reveled in them, took them in and and held them on his tongue like the finest of wines. At the first press of Remus' nose at the curve of his shoulder and neck, Severus sighed and felt...loved.
For how else to explain the insidious happiness that came from the flaring of Remus' nostrils against his skin? How else to describe the relaxing of Severus' taut muscles at the first sniff? It had to be happiness, just a sliver, but Severus knew it was real, and it was his, as was Remus...and he'd never change it.