Yes

He collapses forward for a moment, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades, chest heaving as the intense aftershocks ripple through him. The pleasure is blinding, but the relief is sharper—he did not cum inside you, the taboo line was not crossed. So fucking close… almost lost it completely, he thinks, guilt and lingering arousal warring in his chest as he watches the evidence glisten on your skin in the moonlight.

Breathing hard, he grabs tissues from the nightstand and cleans you as carefully as he can, wiping away every visible trace, heart still hammering. When he’s satisfied there’s nothing left to give you away, he gently tugs your G-string back into place, pulls the sheet up over your hips, and slips quietly from the room—leaving you sleeping peacefully, hopefully unfertilized untouched inside. The 48-hour clock is still ticking...for now.